Harriet Matirni and the Wizarding World
by H Bregalad
Summary: With the help of James Thurber's "The 13 Clocks," Petunia, a squib, convinces Severus to help her find alternative magical education. He locates the Matirni Traveling Circus (& squib school). She lives happily ever after (and willingly takes in her little sister's orphan. Who happens to be a metamorphmagus. Plotting ensues.) This is Harriet's first year. (Multigender!Harry)
1. Exit: Puck - Enter:Owl

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Puck**

Robin Goodfellow, AKA Puck, AKA Harriet Matirni, made sure the centre stage rope was wrapped securely around her left leg as she swung back toward "Hathaway's Tower." Timing it carefully, she stretched out her right toe to push off just a little bit harder. Not enough speed to frighten the audience (or her mother if she were watching). Quickly she brought her right foot back to grasp the trailing end of the rope so that she her hands would be free to grab the stage left rope at the optimal time for a controlled (graceful) transfer to stage left. Once she'd wound stage left rope around one leg while unwinding the centre stage rope from her right leg with a series of split-like swings of her legs, she pulled the centre stage rope just enough to give herself the amount of swing she'd need to finish the act.

Mostly it consisted of turning upside down, pretending to sprinkle her two older cousins with the love-in-idleness potion, and then landing gently and scampering off. And anything she did that kept those things in order would count as 'an accurate reproduction of the play' for most of her cousins, and probably the audience.

But it wouldn't satisfy "Lady Hathaway" AKA her cousin Ann, or her grandfather. To please _them_, all her rope work and pirouettes and additudes would have to look not just safely controlled but actually graceful. Also Ann was addicted to tying her hair to things (like the fairy wings on her back) and making her flap them by shortening and lengthening different wisps of her hair independently of the rest. Which was fine on the ground doing nothing more complicated than walking, but changing her hair's _length_, unlike it's colour or it's curliness took a lot of concentration.

.

Once she was oriented to sprinkle her cousins with the 'potion' here represented by an empty (and clean, thank goodness) syrup pitcher she did manage several wing flaps as she fumbled in her pocket for the pitcher and made faces at her "sleeping" cousins. Other than that, she had a tiny bit of trouble because she forgot to tuck the pitcher back in her pocket before she tried to return to an upright position. But she managed anyway, swung off to the left and slid to the stage without any mishap worth mentioning to her mother.

She even managed a few more wing flaps as she scampered off stage and hurried to the top of the tower to school her features into the character of her next part.

She played about a third of the characters in most of the plays she was in. It was just about the only thing she was good at.

That and brewing, she was _excellent _at brewing, almost as good as the great Madam Solanaceae, AKA Petunia Matirni, AKA Mum, but then all her siblings and most of her cousins (except Rusty) were at least ok at brewing, as long as they had a recipee to follow so it didn't show much.

.

As she stood at the top of the tower waiting for her cue, watching her cousins wander about in long snaking not quite love triangles, more like love serpents. (ew…) she vowed she would never use or condone love potions, maybe that should include other methods of imparting compulsions. There was a sobering thought… she sort of had this mental thing she did to her hawk Hedwig now and then, which _might _be a compulsion. Or it might just be a means of animal communication, Mum said that there were such things, she even said a lot of the roustabouts and the some of the trainers were not just capable but fairly good at that sort of thing.

It seemed a more useful skill than changing the length of her hair.

So she wouldn't swear off compulsions just yet…

She was startled by a hoot and she looked up just in time to see an owl land on the railing right next to her shoulder.

"Well hello," she whispered, "aren't you up and about a little early?"

It hooted more insistently and held out her leg. There was a letter tied to it.

She looked closer, it was addressed "To: Harry Potter, Care of: Harriet Matirni, Matirni Travelling Circus"

"Another one?" she whispered, "Why do I always get stuck playing Costard in real life, I've _never _played him in Love's Labours Lost." Actually Ann had tried to get her to take the part last time the play had been restructured to allow maximum use of Harriet's skills. Harriet had refused on principle. She knew it had started because she used to be too naive to understand why any sort of communication might ought to be kept secret, _and _because she didn't charge as much as some of her cousins to make the deliveries and keep quiet about things. Now she did it because she found it amusing to know who was having secret communication with who.

She wasn't to the point of being able to guess what _sort _of secret communication was happening before it all came out publicly, but she felt like she was getting close.

And now someone had the audacity to go by "Harry Potter" and was receiving things by owl. _By Owl!_

She untied the letter and stuck it in her pocket, "do I get reward or remuneration or _anything_ for this?"

The owl looked affronted and flew away. Perhaps _she__'d_ been supposed to feed _it_, animals often operated by different rules.

"Fine then," she muttered and returned her attention to the stage, one more act and she'd go find her mother, and probably lunch.

...

Harriet approached the tent of "The Great Madam Solanaceae," she was relieved to see the "Closed" sign dangling over the door. She slipped inside. And double checked that she'd put on her own face, a face half like her mother's, but with a dainty version of her father's cleft chin. And a small version of her uncle's ears … She never figured out why she liked her uncle's ears, no one ever mentioned noticing anything about her ears except when she made them too big, but she liked them so she kept them, but she kept them small.

"We're closed. Come back after lunch," said her mum grumpily from where she leaned over her gilded chest of potions vials.

"But Great Madam, I'm looking for someone, you _must_ help me find them," Harriet whinged in mock hysterics.

"Oh. Hi Harriet. Do you know what's for lunch?" Said Petunia, "I mean besides birthday cake."

"Hi mum. No, I don't," said Harriet, "so do you know anyone who'd dare to go by 'Harry Potter' Or do you think it was one of the mundanes who doesn't know better." For a second that had sounded like the most innocent possibility, but then the bloody letter had arrived by owl, it would take a special kind of mundane to try to send secret post by owl _and_ forget to pay for the assistance of the the "care of" recipient.

Petunia sat up with her eyes the widest Harriet had ever seen them, and that _included _when she was gazing into her crystal ball. "Who wants to know?"

That was about how Harriet had felt half an hour ago.

Harriet shrugged and tossed the letter on the table, "this letter, or rather, _I_ want to know so I can pass it on properly."

Petunia picked up the letter and glared at it like it had eaten her cousin Rusty and come back for seconds. Then she brought it to her face and sniffed it carefully.

Checking for … potions? Perfumes? Identifiable B.O.?

"Where did you get it?" said Petunia.

"An owl, waved it in my face and glared at me until I got it off his leg for him… her." It was big enough it was probably female, in most birds of pray the female was larger.

Petunia nodded and brought over the incense tray, and laid it on the table by the candle.

So, this was going to involve a long enough story that refreshing the incense was required first? But all Harriet had asked was who to pass the letter to not why the idiot had chosen that alias.

"Who uses owls to deliver post?"

"The wizarding world," said Petunia.

A shiver went up Harriet's spine, Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world, received a letter by an owl, a probable post carrier from the wizarding world. That couldn't be a coincidence. To _her_, the middle-child of the Great Madam Solanaceae, AKA Petunia Matirni. Unsolicited encounters with the wizarding world almost always went badly for members of the Matirni Travelling Circus.

With a deceptively simple, smooth motion the letter was in the candle, and a second later lay flaming into ash on the incense tray.

Harriet worked hard to suppress her surprise far enough to get her mouth closed.

Petunia's eyes rose to meet Harriet's, "consider the letter properly delivered,"

Harriet felt her eyes widen as the pieces slid together, like a potion finally forming. "Are _we _the ones hiding Harry Potter?" whispered Harriet.

Petunia's head jerked the minutest amount, a nod, but barely large enough to be visible from two feet away, and in candle light. Anyone outside would not have seen it. Even if the door had been open.

"Dear God," whispered Harriet and sat down.

"None of that," said Petunia grabbing her shoulder and leading her toward the tent flap, "normal day, nothing unusual, just circus acts to do and the show must go on."

"Right," said Harriet.

As soon as she was following under her own power, Petunia let go.

...

They made their way to the small seating area hidden inside the ring of diner wagons. When Harriet had a meal's worth of food accumulated she went and sat near where Ann was holding court with those of her siblings and cousins who were currently under her tutelage.

Petunia sat across from her with a benevolent smile and stuffed her face with a gusto that implied that telling fortunes and selling potions took exponentially more energy than swinging from ropes and scampering all over stage did.

Harriet looked at her plate and tried to hear what Ann was saying from the end of the table.

A familiar presence sat down next to Petunia and murmured hopeful but esoteric things about the apothecary trade and Uncle Royce's enchanted trinket boxes.

Harriet looked up at her brilliant father, AKA The Great Councillor Sivo, AKA Gray Matirni. She admired his black goatee and the way it highlighted his cleft chin, and made him look haughty and enlightened.

If she wore a beard it would look like that.

Well, if she wore a beard for reasons that didn't involve the stage or being in disguise.

It was after all, all about image. About seeming to be the sort of person that people would come to to get the sort of help you wanted to give them. Or from time to time, the reverse.

...

That was an interesting concept, what was it about her appearance that made everyone think she was an amateur postal worker. And the owl had come to her when she wasn't even wearing her normal features, how did it do that? Hedwig did that too, but Harriet had figured it had something to do with the way she called her hawk and being the only one with a gloved fist in the air.

"Did something happen to Harriet?" Dad said.

"She saw a Hogwarts letter," said Petunia.

"Is she bothered by the diversity of subjects available there, or the thought of hawks not being allowed." There went dad again, knowing when she was thinking about Hedwig, though not what about her.

"The letter was addressed to Harry Potter," Mum said.

"Oh, what did you do?" he said

"I burned it." She said.

"Of course you did, what did you tell Harriet?"

"I didn't tell her anything, I confirmed her guess that the circus was hiding Potter."

"Ah," he said, "Harriet,"

Harriet looked up.

"Awesome deduction," he grinned and held up his hand.

She gave him a high five and grinned back.

He turned back to Petunia, "What's next then? You've had more direct experience with Magical Britain than I have?"

"Well, we'll have to figure out if 'Potter' is going to attend, and then write a letter to that effect, probably we should also give a copy to Harriet and to Royce, to hand off to whatever owl stops by next, just in case one visits either of them first."

"Why did the letter come through me anyway?" said Harriet.

Gray looked up just long enough to say, "You can never tell with wizards." And he winked.

"Actually…" said Petunia.

Grey's shoulders slumped and he looked back at Harriet, "Wizards and witches or their owls… actually I'm not sure which… prefer to deliver to people with a certain type of magical core, you have it and your uncle Royce has it. Hence his ability with a wand."

"And Harry Potter?" said Harriet.

"One assumes," said Gray, "though the fact his letter was addressed through you does make one wonder."

"'Kay," said Harriet.

"Given what is public knowledge about Potter's family situation," said Petunia, "it's possible his family paid his tuition before he was old enough for his magic to be tested."

"Point," said Gray, "How much _is_ tuition?"

"Several stone of gold,"

"Actual gold?" said Gray, "my my, how decoupled."

Petunia shrugged.

"It would be a shame to let that go to waste," said Gray.

"What are you saying?" said Petunia.

"Suppose H— Potter doesn't want to attend," said Gray, "Suppose Harriet impersonated him for the purpose of not letting all that prepaid tuition go to waste."

"I don't see Royce allowing Potter not to go," said Petunia.

"I'm sure he'll insist that Potter be properly trained, just like he always has, but that doesn't necessarily include Hogwarts."

"Perhaps," said Petunia.

"How beautifully mercenary," whispered Harriet then aloud, "Umm, as long as Harry doesn't expect me to be able to reimburse him."

"Good point," said Gray.

Petunia looked at her, "would you actually be interested in learning wand work, and well, whatever the wizarding world bothers to teach school children about brewing and astronomy and inscribing?"

Harriet shrugged.

"My sister," said Petunia like it annoyed her, "was said to be good with 'charms', which for wizards seems to mean a particular subsection wand work, instead of rune work."

"Odd," said Harriet.

Petunia shrugged, "Anyway, decide what you want and tell me," said Petunia she turned to Gray, "you check with Potter about what he wants and get back to me?"

"Right," said Gray slowly and got up and headed toward the wagon that he and his younger brother ran, an apothecary shop and dealer in harmless charmed trinkets of all possible types.

"Just to clarify," said Harriet, "why would Potter _not _want to go?"

Petunia shrugged, "lots of reasons, he might not like the idea of going all the way to Scotland to a boarding school, or leaving his family behind for all that time. He might not like their course offerings. Particularly their lack of any of the normal subjects. Other than astronomy, I believe the they have no math or science or theatre."

"Oh," said Harriet.

"And I think their animal classes don't start until third year."

"That's—" Harriet almost said 'that's not acceptable' but thought the better of it. Other than Hedwig, she didn't actually have much use for over half the familiars that her relatives kept. And the theory of animal training didn't actually appeal to her, she liked the results, she supposed, or watching the performances that could only be possible because of the results, but that was a different issue. About animal training, outside of Hedwig, she was barely more than a mundane, and with Hedwig, she wasn't much to speak of compared to several of her cousins, or any of the _Persians_.

"And there are other options on the continent, Your uncle and grandmother went to school in Slovenia, and several of the horse trainers went in France."

"I think I'd prefer Scotland," said Harriet, contemplating her grades with the French tutor, "if I can take Hedwig,"

Petunia nodded thoughtfully.

"And if I don't have to be a boy."

Petunia's eyes narrowed, "that might take a bit more acting up front,"

"In order to need less acting farther on?" said Harriet, "that sounds like the standard definition of a good cost-alleviating expense?"

Petunia nodded, "the other issue is whether you're going on Potter's Scholarship, so to speak, or if you're going as Potter's spy."

"How so?"

"If you're going as Potter, in order to be Potter's agent, that's different than going with a letter of introduction from Potter asking them to reassign his tuition accounts to your name."

"I get the business aspects, but I sense political aspects that I'm not comprehending."

"Suppose you wake up some morning with a teacher or a nurse bending over you, and wondering who in blazes you are, because you sneezed in your sleep and turned to someone else?"

"Oh," said Harriet.

"If no one except your admissions representative and your financial officer even know you have any ties to Potter, then you can appear as anyone you want, whenever you want and just be Harriet Matirni, a metamorphmagus, but if everyone knows that you are Potter, and then you stop, what are they going to think then? Of you, and of Potter."

"Yeah, I see."

"And Potter has enemies, as well as an adoring public."

"Which is why he's hiding so well I didn't even know he was around."

"Quite,"

"Will I get to meet him?"

"Probably not more than you already have."

"Oh," said Harriet, trying to hide her disappointment, Harry was a known freak of nature, reputed to have survived the killing curse or at least he survived Great Britain's last dark lord.

But then the metamorphmagus gift was also exceedingly rare, she could be her own freak of nature, whenever she wanted.

She sighed.

"Wait a second," she said, "If I don't get to meet him, how to I pretend to be him?"

"Ah," said Petunia, and shrugged, "you already look a bit like him,"

"Really?" said Harriet.

"Well," said her mother, "you look a bit like all your cousins, and he is one of them."

"Oh," said Harriet looking around, "How old is he?"

Petunia leaned forward, "His eleventh birthday is today, though we generally celebrate on a different day so that no one notices,"

"My birthday is today," said Harriet, "this is my birthday cake."

"Quite," Petunia said, "it's also his, though in a week or so when we put his name on a cake…"

Harriet had three cousins with a birthday in the next week, and any one of them might be the real live Harry Potter.

Five in the next two weeks, and all but one of them was in her grade.

One of the older O'Learys teased them that while Irish twins were siblings born within a year of each other, 'Slovenian quadruplets' were cousins born in the same month.

...

"Are any of the others … like me?"

"What?" said Petunia.

"If tuition money weren't a problem, would anyone else I know be going?"

"Oh," said Petunia, "the Patil twins, and they are going,"

"Anyone else?" said Harriet. The Patils weren't technically her cousins, thought they would run with the pack, when they weren't busy being prissy and ladylike. Apparently their Mum was the actual second-in-line-for-a-title sort of nobility, and they didn't mind acting like it on occasion.

"No, that's all."

"Alright," said Harriet. Who she _really_ wanted to take with her was Ann, but … Ann was three years older, and ran the Hathaway stage. The circus needed Ann a lot more than Harriet did.

**Severus**

Severus Snape, youngest potions master in centuries stalked into the administration wing of the magic school with the best safety rating in the world, "What is it Minerva?"

"Three children of faculty of the Matirni Travelling Circus (and squib school) accepted invitations to attend Hogwarts. Would you mind doing the needful?"

"Ah, anyone I know?" said Severus.

"You'd be the best judge of that," said Minerva handing over the letters.

"Patil, Patil, Matirni, all girls, well well well." He finished flipping through and looked up, "Any special instructions?"

"Given that all the recent special instructions for interacting with the Matirni school are written by you, no," said Minerva, "good luck,"

"Thanks," said Severus, "actually a visit like this might be the best possible investment of of a dose of Felix I can think of. Add _that _to the file." He spun on his heel and walked away.

"Oh dear," said Minerva, "Severus!"

"Yes?" he stepped backward into the room and spun to face her again.

"Look closely at the second letter that returned with the Matirni acceptance letter before you go, be prepared for _anything_, and try to find out what _really_ happened to," Minerva shrugged, "Albus will want to know. Hell, even I want to know."

Severus raised an eyebrow, then flipped back through to find the letter attached to the Matirni:

...

"Dear Headmistress MacGonagall,

I write to inform you that my ward Harry James Potter has opted to pursue his middle schooling on the continent, however in light of the family connections, and such, rather that putting his parent's school through the trouble of reimbursing his tuition, it seemed prudent for his cousin, my daughter, Harriet Matirni to take his place. If that is acceptable.

I apologies for the bother.

...

Regards,

~Petunia Matirni.

...

P.S. It is my memory that the school provides a guide or chaperone for those pupils who's immediate families are not able to provide them with access to the supplies listed in the admission letter you sent. Is that for mundanes only? Or is that available to all non-wizards? I ask because there are a few wizards around the camp, but some of them aren't of the most… reliable reputation."

...

"Then by all means," said Severus, "by all means we shall treat you as muggleborn, rather than expose your poor daughter to the chaperonage of an 'unreliable' wizard. Minerva did you _read_ this?"

"Yes, I read it," she said.

"And you didn't suggest I take Sprout or Sinistra along?"

"Sinistra is on leave, feel free to ask Sprout, but don't count on anything, you know summer is her time to mind the plants that will only grow in summer."

"And the Patils? Aren't they from a part of India where… Merlin I'm going to have to take three muggleborn girls and_ at least_ one muggle parent along with me."

Minerva sighed, and picked up a stack of letters, "Just because I can generally manage two to three pupils a day doesn't mean I expect you to also, take until the end of the week if you prefer."

She turned to the fireplace and floo'd away to someplace where she could apparate.

Grumbling mentally Severus moved in the same direction, flooing first to his office to pick up two doses of Felix Felicis, then flooing to the ministry so he could track down where the circus was camped this week.

**{End Chapter 1}**


	2. Meeting, (again?)

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters WOULD have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Harry**

Harriet woke up, and looked at the clock. Then at the calender.

Monday. Excellent, Monday was a brewing day, Tuesday would be a rest day.

Thursday and Monday were brewing days, other days had been tried but the way weekend traffic tended to go, it was just better to restock on Monday and Thursday, the circus's other shops mostly restocked on Monday and Thursday also. Except the apothecary, it waited until after Monday's brewing was done before it tried to figure which supplies it needed to lay in.

...

Harriet washed and dressed for breakfast. Clothes that would be light enough to wear under a brewing apron and gloves.

Dee and Moit were already eating. Petunia was sitting at her place with food on her plate, but she was only paying attention to a list of the potions that needed restocking.

"Good morning," said Harriet.

"Top," said Dee and Moit without looking up from shovelling cereal into their mouths without looking what they were doing because they were busy smirking and making knowing eyes at each other. And trying not to laugh. Or something.

Harriet was glad she'd be inside helping and not outside to be targeted by whatever they had going. She just hoped the laughter stayed contained long enough that they didn't start choking and breathing milk and cereal through their noses.

...

"Good morning, dear," said Petunia, "What do you make of these two?" And she slid a photograph of two … perhaps college pupils at her.

"She looks like you, he reminds me of Royce's book of wizard nobles, … maybe the Blacks, except his hair is too straight."

"Can you make up a child of theirs?"

"Sure, anything in particular?"

"A zigzag scar."

"How many segments, and where?"

"Huh?" Petunia finally sat up and looked at her, "three segments, like modern futhark sowilo not like old italic em, or cweorth, and it's on your forehead."

"'Kay," said Harriet, "boy or girl."

"Boy."

"Does this character have a name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"Oh, These are Aunt Lily and Uncle James?" said Harriet, "does he mind me impersonating him?"

"Yes they are, and no, I don't believe he minds," said Petunia, "and if you fail to look like him to the extent that no one who meets you ever recognises him, so much the better."

"Curious," said Harriet, "ditto for mannerisms then I assume?"

"Precisely," said Petunia.

"How _big _is this part?"

"How big do you want it to be?"

"He doesn't want it back at all?" said Harriet.

"He's content with his life and his family and his fortune, and his obscurity, and whatever security that obscurity affords him."

"Got it."

"He says you're welcome to use his name as needed to advance your career, but not his parent's money, most of which is his, a fifth of which is mine, and a fifth of which belongs to some deadbeat by the name of Remus Lupin who you may or may not ever run into."

"Complicated," said Harriet, "How much of that do I need to remember?"

"Forget it by all means, or until it becomes politically advantageous to have become informed. Just … well anyway, I believe there's a trust fund and a family fund, he only has access to the trust fund until he comes of age, and while you impersonate him, you only have access to that fund, I expect you to keep careful track of how much money you draw from his trust fund so that I can deduct it from how much I expect him to pass on to me when he comes of age."

"Oh," said Harriet, "alright. Anything else?"

"Yeah, the forehead scar is a curse scar, supposed to be unhealable so he must never appear without it."

"How … terrible would it be if I make a mistake on that?"

"Then you are by definition someone else impersonating him, which might or might not be bad, depending on whether he'd give you permission to impersonate him."

"But you said he just gave me permission to impersonate him."

"No, I mean whether the you really impersonating him would admit to whoever observed you pretending to impersonate him, that he had given you permission to pretend to impersonate him,"

"Puck," said Harriet, "that makes my head hurt more than diagramming a potion's recipe from it's colour and effects only."

Petunia shrugged, "it does take practice," and she leaned over her list again.

Harriet looked at the photo again, then took it outside to observe it better.

The woman had emerald green eyes.

_Brilliant_.

Literally even.

The hair wasn't a good colour though, well it was a fine colour but she didn't think she had much in the way of costumes that wouldn't clash horribly with it. So if she took his black hair, and her eyes, she didn't like either of their noses, so she'd keep her own, which was to say, she'd keep Mum's nose. Neither of them had a particularly cute chin, … but if she was supposed to be a _boy_. She took his chin, then she took the rest of his face, except for Lily's eyes, and she kept Mum's nose and Uncle Royce's ears. Then she thought the better of that and took his ears too, and Lily's nose.

That would have to do. And a fake curse scar.

Sowilo, _that_ wasn't foreshadowing or anything, and sort of disturbing by itself.

She shivered.

Perhaps there should have been more? Suppose she put it off centre as if it had been the first symbol of an inscription. Sowilo had a flowing changeable nature, it could speak of the stable currents of fate, but it also had a changeable quality, perhaps implying a threat that one could avoid by amending one's ways. As in, "should your hurt my child, may you be cursed."

Yes, it definitely should be off centre.

She went and found her mirror and added 'Harry James Potter' to her character flash cards, and she shuffled and checked how fast she could get through her deck now.

She could become her version of Harry in about eight seconds, but it added about fifteen seconds to her overall time, she wasn't sure if it was just the concentration it took to add a character, or if it was her subconscious still bothering her about wearing sowilo on her forehead. It wasn't a bad rune. Just … not the sort of thing a sane person would choose for themselves. Maybe for their armour? Or their compass?

Never mind.

She shuffled again and flipped through. Three seconds off. Excellent, by the end of the week she'd have him down to the speed she could do any of her other male characters.

Who would use curse cutting to permanently inscribe a rune on their forehead, or on a baby's forehead. What had the _rest_ of the inscription been intended to be?

Aunt Lily was supposed to be not quite all there when it came to runes, but if she'd been in a hurry, and working with what she had available at the time? Or … what if Uncle James…

What was the _official_ explanation of his scar anyway? Babies don't normally get into fights with curses flying about, it had to be within that last fight, or immediately prior, or someone would have been asking James and Lily serious questions about their philosophy of inscribing research.

Well they _had_ been in hiding for several months.

But no, if there had been time, the inscription would have been finished. If it wasn't a curse scar from the fight, it was an inscription that was interrupted in the process of being made.

Was it _really _a curse scar, or had it been mistaken for that because of latent power that had been placed into the rune in preparation for final activation as soon as the other runes were placed?

**Meeting Petunia again**

Severus apparated to Barnstaple and took a taxi to the fairground.

It was quiet for a circus, there would be no shows until three, which suited him fine. He used a simple four points to find his way across the field of chaotically arranged wagons fast enough that no one stopped him to ask his business.

He stopped in amazement at the side of a lorry that carried the large size of international shipping container, it smelled of rust, as all steel containers do once they reach a certain age, but beneath that…

He mounted the steps, that were constructed of aluminium grating that would never be slick even when wet, and also light enough for a single roustabout to lift in and out of the container or wherever it rode until the next stop. He knocked on the door.

"Come in Severus," said a voice muffled by the rubber gasket that came installed on such doors.

A wordless unlocking charm did nothing, so whatever the door needed counted as unlatching not unlocking.

"Harriet, Go let your godfather in."

"What's a godfather?"

"Just let him in, we'll talk about it later."

"'Kay," the door clunked loudly and swung inward.

"Hello," said the girl. Black waivy hair, perhaps braided recently, pulled back enough for being allowed in the potions lab, but not for public display. Three times cuter than Petunia had ever been, perhaps more than Lily had been at that age. But Lily's best feature had been her personality, as Petunia's had been her ambition.

"Greetings," said Severus.

"Prince?" said the girl.

"What?" said Severus.

"Are you related to the Prince line?"

"Yes," said Severus.

The girl's eyes shown in triumph, and shyness, and she scurried back to her mother.

"Gerardo root," said Petunia, "is it ready?"

"Yes Mum," said the girl, and put her gloves back on.

Then she picked up a small metal board and held it halfway over a glass cauldron of some sort. A moment later the colour of the bubbling liquid shifted, and they both tapped their toes in unison, three beats, then they both nodded at the exact same moment and began sliding the diced root gently off the board into the cauldron, with large flat knives, that could have been meat cleavers, except they looked thin and light by comparison, more like metal spatulas.

The potion changed again colour again, and they both froze and the girl took the cutting tray away and swept the last few grains of root back toward the centre.

After several more seconds, the potion stopped bubbling and the mother reached down and twisted a knob to banish the flame.

"That's enough for now," said Petunia, "Go get a travelling cloak and find Potter's Hogwarts letter."

"Yes, Mum," said the girl and scurried around Severus toward the open door before stopping and looking back.

"Which cloak?"

"Any of the wool ones," said Petunia, "Why not that blue one."

"Miranda's or Titania's?"

"I was thinking Titania's."

"Yes, Mum," said the girl and dinged down the stairs before scurrying off.

...

Petunia reached above her head and turned off a grating, buzzing, humming noise. The air seemed to thicken, and Severus could smell the potion that had just finished brewing.

Assisting with third year potions and expert enough not to need much in the way of verbal prompting. She was a find indeed.

Assuming she was more than a squib.

"Are the rest of your children as accomplished?" said Severus.

"The older one is not so … tractable, the younger one is not yet tall enough to help with the brewing. I will miss her assistance."

"I can imagine, does she do accidental magic."

Petunia looked troubled, "she changes the length of her hair, it's not accidental anymore, her cousin expects her to do it on stage to control the gauzy fairy wings she wears, or other things that shouldn't move by themselves."

"On stage?" said Severus, "That is… treading dangerously close to the statute of secrecy."

"Just like selling potions as herbal remedies?" said Petunia, "I'm not sure anyone except Harriet and Ann know, the wings used to be clockwork, but the man who made them isn't around anymore. So the theatre teacher stripped the clockwork out and connected the spring strait to the wings, so Harriet can pull them with her hair."

"Not around anymore? Got board with theatre work then."

"No, cirrhosis of liver."

"Ah."

"Then again, that might have been a symptom of the same thing," temporised Petunia.

Severus snorted.

Petunia shrugged, and pulled out a notepad, "Do I assume correctly that, you're the 'Hogwarts Representative' here to introduce Harriet to the Wizarding World?"

Severus could hear how many extra capitals Petunia used in that sentence. Severus sneered, "Technically no, I'm here merely to help her buy school supplies. But I'm somewhat confused. She's eleven? And does accidental magic, and well enough to _not _consider it accidental."

"Yes."

"And you didn't get an invitation to enrol her? No you wouldn't have, it would have gone strait to her, stupid prejudices."

"Correct."

"And she _didn't _get a letter of her own?"

"Correct again."

"Was she born on the continent, because something doesn't add up."

Petunia frowned, "she might have been, I can't say that I remember, Dee was was born in the Netherlands, and Moit was born in Slovenia at his great grandfather's."

Severus nodded and relaxed, that would do it. If he could witness a bit of accidental magic so much the better, but it wouldn't matter once they went and bought wands, or … a failure at that would be proof enough that there was no point in continuing further.

"So how have you been?" said Severus, "the travelling life _seems _to be treating you well."

Petunia grinned, "I love it, the only thing I could wish for is a little bit more stability for the children, I love seeing them work their hearts out for the show, but the report cards they bring back, the grades fluctuate so much, and I have to assume it's because the schedules of both they and their tutors are at the mercy of the exigencies of the road and of the show."

Severus nodded.

"But they're so capable and independent it makes me want to burst sometimes, well no, not _independent_, what is the word for … it's not that they do things all by themselves, but that they do so without prompting … when one of them sees a problem they form their peers around them into a team and go take care of it without needing to be given orders. And then three weeks later you go to check the tires or the coolant in the air conditioner and you realise that little hands have been there and fixed things and you didn't even know. It would be nice if they reported everything in the proper maintenance log books, but at least we weren't stopped by the side of the road waiting for repairs." She shrugged.

Severus stared at her, he thought that those particular maintenance issues were potentially life threatening either in scope of the catastrophe they guarded against or in the nature of the repair.

But then potion accidents could be the same.

And they didn't _let _their children do them so much as not even _notice _that their children were accomplishing them.

"I'm glad you like it here," he said, "Sorry, but I have to ask, not because I want more information than you're willing to volunteer, but because certain of my co-workers will want to hear the gossip."

Petunia raised an eyebrow in disdain.

It looked so familiar because he'd learned it from her.

"Not that most of them know enough to ask. You understand, but a small fraction of them have been informed."

"Out with it Sev, what juicy bit of gossip is this, and how much are you willing to pay for it?"

"How is Mr. Potter."

"Ah," said Petunia, "Would —"

The sound of dashing feet, and the girl reappeared looking not quite a witch and not quite a gypsy, but definitely not a muggle.

Petunia turned back to him, "Would you like to meet him?"

_No, not really._

"That would simplify things," said Severus, "such as, it would be easier if I heard from his own mouth that he doesn't mind Harriet using his tuition."

"Oh, that's shouldn't be a problem," said Petunia, "Harriet, go get Dee and Moit, and," she grabbed her by the wrist and brought her close enough to whisper something in her ear.

Her eyes grew big an mystified for several seconds, "Oh," she breathed, "you mean … him, alright," she straightened.

"Actually, wait a moment," said Petunia, "Severus would you like a bite to eat, before you go?"

"No, no," said Severus, "I expect this to take all morning, all morning and half the afternoon if I can convince the Patils to accompany us. We'll stop for a bite in Diagon if we aren't back before lunch."

"Alright," said Petunia and turned back to Harriet, "go collect them and send them here, then go see if your uncle Royce will lend you his wand for fifteen minutes."

"He won't," said Harriet.

"Ask him anyway," said Petunia, "and wait on his doorstep until he lets you, or until I send word that there's no time left."

"Alright," said Harriet sullenly and left.

What was _that_ about? And who would lend their wand and who… was she getting under the table wand lessons? From her uncle? From a book and not quite outside her uncle's supervision? Or was her mother trying to finagle them for her, knowingly or unknowingly, against the law? No wonder he was 'notoriously reluctant' to lend his wand, even if Harriet was the image of responsibility. Petunia had tried to get herself into Hogwarts just under two decades ago. Was she trying the same thing again for her daughter. He'd have to be doubly on his guard for evidence whether she were a witch and not another squib like her mother.

Several minutes later two boys trooped in, one with short wavy black hair and one with slightly longer brown curls, both with chubby cheeks, both in white shirts and blue britches, but their waistcoats didn't match, one was green and one was red. The traditional eastern European image of children: cute and in cute colours, but the clothes were the exact same cut as what their parents might wear.

"Hello, mum," they said. The short one tilted his head back and back to catch sight of Severus looming behind him, albeit an upside down view. But he lost his nerve as soon as he noticed Severus observing him and looked back at his mother. Lucky that the cheeky thing didn't fall over or get dizzy.

The other kept facing his mother, waiting for orders or…

"Hello, children, this is your Uncle Severus Snape. He's a teacher at Hogwarts, the school where your sister will be attending."

"Oh," said the older, turning to offer Severus his hand.

"Who's he related to?" said the little one, trying to copy his brother, but not paying enough attention to not loose his train of thought when it was impossible for him to shake Severus' hand at the exact moment that his brother was shaking hands.

"He was a good friend of your Aunt Lily and I," said Petunia, "A close enough friend that you may call him Uncle, even if he never married either of us. And he's Harriet's godfather."

"What's a godfather," said the little one.

"I'll explain it tomorrow," said Petunia.

Another boy came in, a hand shorter than the taller boy, his waistcoat and britches were black, and he had rather a sever face, and messy black hair. He came right in and turned to face Severus, "Harriet said you wished to see me, sir"

Severus glared back at him, There was no doubt who his parents were. But who in hell (or possibly outside) it had been raising him? Severus gave a quick nod, and wondered how to present himself. To … a child Abraxes Malfoy, who wore Potter's face. Maybe it _would _be better he didn't attend Hogwarts just now, in more ways than Severus had at first imagined. He'd spent a decade dreaming of being able to grind that face into the pavement, but with Lily's eyes, he might not have the heart, and with the elder Malfoy's demeanour, he might not have the guts. And the child looked used to a firm hand. Would he be off balance and collapse without it, or would he fill up the vacuum with his own ambitions.

Severus turned away and grabbed the Hogwarts Letter off the counter-top, "Have you seen this?" said Severus.

Potter scanned it quickly, "No, where did you get it?" he looked annoyed and perhaps frightened though he hid that almost well enough. Probably well enough for someone who didn't hang out with politicians and death eaters.

"Your cousin was waltzing around with it earlier, I was wanting to make sure that you had turned it down before I let her make free with what your parents paid for."

"Oh," he looked relieved, "Yeah that's fine, her parents and uncle are paying for my schooling so she can use mine, it's just that—" he marched over to lay it down on a cutting board and where he caught up a small potions knife to cut off the top quarter of the sheet, and held the small piece in the flame keeping under another cauldron at a slow simmer.

He brought the remainder back to Severus, "there, I don't mind her waving _that _around."

Severus looked at what was left, the Hogwarts letterhead was missing, as was his name, the rest was still perfectly legible.

Prudence attempting to approach Alistor's. Fine.

"I think I see," said Severus, "ought I report to the headmaster that it would be pointless to mount a search for you, based solely on your birth name?"

Potter grinned like a shark, "Nor my birth day, nor the address of my next of kin, and we'll be paying cash."

Severus raised an eyebrow, and nodded.

His grin faded and he stood up straighter, "is there anything else, sir?"

"I admit myself impressed," said Severus, "if your advisers pay as much attention to honing your skills in magic as they seem to in prudence, you should find that you and your skills are valued by a great many people by the time you graduate."

Potter nodded, and glanced at Petunia.

Petunia smirked, "Of course we value your skills _now_," she whispered, "but it is normal to attempt to continue to acquire more value as you become and adult."

Potter nodded and shrugged at the same time, "I meant, is there anything else, Madam Solanaceae?"

She raised a finger to indicate he wait a moment,

"Severus, do you know what happened to the key to his trust vault?"

"As it happens," said Severus, and he pulled it out of his pocket and he held it out half way between them.

Petunia nodded for Potter to take it, he complied and shivered.

_Yep, it was his key alright._

He stuffed it in his pocket and wiped his hand on his waistcoat.

"That's all," said Petunia, "Harriet is probably sitting on the steps of Royce's workshop waiting for a chance to borrow his wand. If you find her there, send her back here."

He nodded, and stalked out.

Petunia sighed. As one, she and Severus turned to catch sight of a little hand raised with what might be only a blade of grass dangling out toward medium cauldron of who knew what. Petunia reacted fastest, "oi children. Out. Out out out."

"Aw Mum," said the little one waiting to be hand led out the door, but the big one hurried out.

Severus was almost certain he'd absconded with a potions knife and half a stalk of Rheum Palmatum. Perhaps he had a bee sting to cure or anticipated such. But Severus would have wagered distilling it for Essence for the Inducement of Hiccups would be more in keeping with his estimate of the child's interests and attention span.

He hid a smirk and waited while Petunia ordered them to go find something _productive _to do. And a bit longer while she checked all her potions to make sure none of them had been spiked.

"Is there anything else?" said Petunia, "do you want directions to the Patil's wagon? Though they're probably over at the corral actually."

Severus took a breath, but before he could speak she went on.

"Are you sure you don't want something to drink?"

"Water would be fine," he said, wanting to rebuke her for offering anyone anything to ingest in her potions lab. Instead he said, "I still have to wait here for Harriet to return,"

"Ah, right." She bustled outside and returned with clear plastic cups and a pitcher of water.

Severus smelled it carefully before he drank. But he recognised the smell of city water from this part of the country much too well to be worried after that.

They drank in silence for a few minutes more before Harriet returned looking hot and bothered. "No wand," she informed breathlessly, She glanced longingly at his glass of water. He reached for his wand.

But she was already looking away, first at the pitcher and the counter-top around it. "Did you see my Hogwarts letter?"

"Your Uncle Severus has it," said Petunia.

She turned to him.

He cast a cooling charm at her. She grinned. "Uncle Severus?"

"You should probably get in the habit of calling me Professor Snape," he said, "Yes, I have your letter." He realised that his hands were full.

He tossed off his water so he could put the cup down and go through his pockets for the letter. He noticed that she made a face as if she weren't sure where the trade off was between enforcing the rule separating potions and table utensils, and the rule about not reprimanding guests. Or how to interpret the fact that there was vary obviously a water pitcher already on the same counter.

He passed her the letter. She looked down at it and examined the damaged done to it, and she looked up again questioningly.

"Potter didn't want his name associated with you by anyone who didn't need to know the two of you might be spending summers in the same place.

She nodded and refolded the letter until it would fit in her pocket.

He cast a scrubbing charm at the cup, then the duplicating charm, and finally conjured water into both glasses.

Her eyes went wide.

He handed her one.

She sniffed it carefully and watched him begin to sip his.

She tasted it and her eyes went wide again. "Is it distilled then, sir? out of the air?"

He smirked, "excellent surmise," _and that would have been two points to your house. If I taught charms, likely Flitwick had a different point scale and isn't as interested in the chemistry of the situation._

She grinned and put her hand up.

He blinked.

She shrugged and put her hand down, "Sorry, every time Da says something like 'excellent surmise' he wants me to give him a high five."

"Ah," he said, "you'll want to suppress _that _habit, your professors aren't going to high five you, and you'll probably only get high fives from your classmates if you were awarded the points together, or if you're in hufflepuff."

"Where's hufflepuff?"

"It's one of the dorms," said Severus, "named after one of the founders of Hogwarts, the other three dorms are slytherin, ravenclaw and gryffindor."

"Oh," said Harriet, "Which dorms are the girl dorms?"

He opened his mouth, and shut it again.

He would never get used to muggleborns. And here she was doing third year potions and no idea about Hogwarts, what a mess.

He really needed to get a copy of Minerva's standard muggleborn speech and rearrange it specifically for pupils from the Matirni Travelling Circus.

Though it sounded like there wouldn't be any others for another several years.

Which is exactly what he thought last time. What? Six years ago? Which is why he hadn't done much about it last time either.

"Nothing so simple. Each dorm is split in half, and has a girls side and a boys side," said Snape, It wasn't quite that simple, there were single rooms that parents could petition for, and in some dorms they were centrally located instead of at the ends of the other wings. But it was close enough an explanation for now. "Now, as soon as you finish that, we'll go and find the Patil twins."

Her eyes brightened. And she turned toward the door. "I can walk and drink at the same time," she said.

"You say that as if there's a question in your mind."

"Are we walking to find the Patil twins, or running?"

"My preference is stride rapidly," said Severus, "especially imposing with the right sort of robes on."

"Ooh," she said.

"You may need to put on several inches before the technique would work for you." He said.

"I could probably put wires in my cloak so the corners flip out properly." She said.

"I'm sure you could, levitation charms and breeze charms are also commonly used."

He could see her taking mental notes of more things she wanted to learn as _soon _as possible.

"How about," he said casting a critical eye at how close her waist was to the floor, "I stride rapidly and you walk or run as necessary to keep up and lead me in the right direction?"

"You're such a _grown up_," she muttered, "Alright," she said brightly and headed for the door.

She was so easy to read, he didn't need legilimency. He wondered if she whispered all her thoughts aloud for a particular reason.

...

As they crossed the fairgrounds and he watched her interact with her cousins and other acquaintances he began to wonder if they all were always broadcasting their states of mind as some odd form of simulated telepathy and group mind.

It was such a hufflepuff concept that he wondered if she'd be able to even survive anywhere else.

And yet, her brother had absconded with a knife and potions ingredients, her cousin, the vaunted Harry Potter had seemed … a weapons master carrying no weapon. Sheathed in secrecy? _There _was a puzzle worthy of Albus. And why was he so sure Potter _hadn't_ been carrying a weapon.

That was fine, here was Petunia's daughter, apparently intended to be his god-daughter, though why he wasn't informed or even asked about that years ago made him wonder. Perhaps they were Anabaptist and didn't bother with a godparent until twelve? He didn't know much about modern Ana-baptists. Or about what godparents _did_ in muggle culture. He ought to find a magical guardianship form and see if Petunia wanted put him or the mysterious Uncle Royce on it.

And here she was swimming through a tide of children who … knew her by voice and didn't even bother glancing at her. Though they knew _he _didn't belong, but when she said he was Professor Snape from her new school, they eyed him with distrust, when she mentioned he was also her uncle, they lost interest.

In the next crowd she attempted an optimisation to the conversation by mentioned he was her uncle, and they wanted to know all the history that connected them. And she said he was really just a step-uncle on her mum's side, and the only reason he came by was because he was going to be her professor at her new school. And they were back to … Jealousy.

And not jealousy of her chance to go to a different school.

No, Jealousy of the school that would acquire her company.

It was gratifying to be offered a pupil that was so _sought after_. But then, Lily had been the same way, at least as far as her sister Petunia was concerned.

**{End Chapter 2}**


	3. Wands

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Padma at Olivanders**

"Mr. Patil is over there with Nations' Peace, the horse with the green crest," Harriet's voice cut through the muffled thunder of hooves on sand as if she weren't aware she wasn't still on stage.

Padma looked up from her book to see who was pointing. But Harriet was wearing her own face for once. Which had to mean something interesting. The cloak looked a bit on the warm side for this weather. Which also should mean something interesting.

_Actually the cloak looked familiar, from yesterday__'s play perhaps? No, wonder she was confused about whether she was on stage._

_Then again, if she__'s trying to talk to the stranger in black robes, over this din… Who is he anyway?_

He replied something she couldn't catch, but she could see Harriet's expression change and her chest heave as she barked out, "Mr. Patil: Paul, Parvati, and Padma, the professor from Hogwarts is here."

She knew _that_ had caught Parvati by surprise, but she didn't flinch in the slightest. Neither had any of the cantering horses or many of the performers checking their paces.

Which was good, considering that Parvati was standing on one foot on Silver Moon's Ray with her other toe lifted to point forward, and her head angled down and just past backward. And a few of the performers were in even more precarious positions.

If there were one voice that the animals were more used to hearing during their performances than their trainers or the ring master, it would probably be Harriet.

And if they did hear her during one of their performances, it would also be during one of her own. Generally that would be Hamlet senior or Ophelia … or Prospero. The rest of the time she didn't need to be that loud, or project from the top of her tower.

Padma put her book away, but didn't move toward the mismatched pair until Silver Moon's Ray cantered around again closer to the fence this time, and Parvati sprung off and landed smoothly on a post with her hands out and sweeping a gentle arc, controlling every aspect of her balance.

Padma smirked, mirroring Parvati's satisfaction with a perfect improvised landing.

Parvati hopped down, using a different sweep of her arms to soften a landing from height, rather than a landing from speed.

By the time she'd gracefully resumed a standing posture, Padma was right behind her and they walked together to the gate of the corral. Where their father was exiting, and Harriet and the man in only black were striding up.

"Well," said Mr. Patil, "I was going to say something about you being out of place in only black, but perhaps it is Parvati that is out of place because her riding boots don't match the rest of her clothes."

Parvati glanced down at her bright red riding bloomers, and knee high white riding boots, and then sideways at Padma in solid grey.

Padma shrugged. Parvati shrugged.

They'd have been in saris if they'd been warned that they ought to match.

The stranger made a half apology about not knowing if Paul or Rajeeta were planning to accompany them to London.

Paul politely rejected the necessity of such an apology, probably because the half apology was just too poorly constructed to be meaningfully accepted, _and_ because the Patils were not in a good position to reject his help.

...

A moment later Rajeeta appeared and the man in black finally introduced himself as Professor Snape, who happened to be the potions professor, and an old friend of Harriet's Mother's family. Then he pulled out a loop of rope and said, "Alright, everyone who's coming shopping, Grab on."

Everyone grabbed on, and he said, "Activate,"

And almost a second of unnerving sensations later, everyone was in a deserted street, "Alright look around," he said again, "there's a pub called the leaky cauldron, can everyone see it?"

The group obeyed, it appeared that everyone could see it.

"We're going into the Pub and out the back, I will tap my wand on the bricks of the wall, once you have a wand, you'll be able to come here and use the same pattern to get in whenever you have shopping to do in Diagon Ally."

Professor led them through and took up and odd stance that let everyone see which bricks he tapped, and the wall morphed into an archway. Or perhaps, the wall stayed where it was and space stretched and shifted so that there was enough space to walk straight through without passing through the space in which the bricks existed.

Everyone hurried through before the space returned to it's normal configuration.

"Does anyone _not _need to visit the bank for currency exchange or withdraw?"

Padma and Parvati looked at their father. Harriet rubbed her pocket. Everyone shook their heads.

"To the bank it is then," said Professor Snape and began to lead the way, while he walked he lectured, "It is the tall white building ahead on the left, it is run by goblins, Gringotts is the only safe transnational bank in the wizarding world, there are several other good banks but they are all local establishments, Gringotts is transnational, because it is also a department of the government of the goblin nation, the main purpose of every Gringotts branch, is its embassy, not its vaults. The goblin nation is the only magical race that has both formed a structured society and has organised into a single nation. Treat them with proper respect."

Paul nodded along politely with the information. Padma had heard a portion of the same information from one of her younger uncles on one of those rare visits home, though he had couched the information as a fairy tail. Back when no one was yet sure how much power was still left in Paul's line.

...

The professor led the way inside and stood in the centre of the lobby and waved the others to choose a line.

Patil Paul chose a line under a sign that said 'exchange' the rest of the family fallowed him. Except Padma, who saw no point in standing in line to watch her father transact business. She pulled out her book and found a spot to stand, near enough the professor that any traffic going past would sort them as the same obstacle, and far enough apart that any careful observer would not make faulty assumptions about how close they were allied.

Harriet hung back and fiddling with a check-book, and whispered to the professor, "how much am I likely to need for supplies today?"

"Seventy five galleons is enough for most new pupils," he said, "two hundred or more might be necessary if you're also buying luxuries like dress robes or flying brooms, none of which you're likely to need your first year. In fact bringing a personal broom is—"

"Is forbidden for first year pupils," finished Harriet with him.

"Alright," she continued, "how much should I budget for spending money throughout the school year?"

"You are not permitted to leave the school for shopping trips in Hogsmead until third year, you shouldn't need any unless you find yourself in need of hiring your fellow pupils for tasks you are unwilling to do yourself."

"Like homework?" said Harriet, "doesn't that negate the point of going to school?"

"One would think," said the professor, "I meant, there are a few pupils in every year who want their clothes or bedding washed a bit more often than the house elves get around to it."

"Is that common?" said Harriet, "more to the point, is it necessary?"

"In a word, very rarely," said the professor, "though perhaps if you mastered the requisite cleaning charms you could pick up a few sickles here and there. Though you'd probably make more with the hangover cure potion."

"Dear God," said Harriet.

"We tend to invoke Merlin," said the professor.

"Does he answer?"

"He has not in about a millennium," said the professor, "which _is _perhaps the _point_,"

"Oh," said Harriet with a shiver. And turned toward a line marked 'withdraw'

...

Twenty minutes and almost a chapter later they were back on the street headed toward a shop called Ollivanders, to buy wands. The entire point of leaving one magic school, was going to another that covered wands and wand use. And so, they must have wands.

Parvati put herself forward, of course, so Padma stood back and watched, in case the process needed note taking of some sort.

First there was writhing a measuring tape that reminded Padma of snakes, but somehow did not interest Harriet in the least, she walked the perimeter of the shop looking forlorn or something.

Then Ollivander began bringing boxes over and opening them one by one and holding them out to Parvati. Parvati would pick up the wand, and sometimes after half a second, and sometimes after eight or ten, Ollivander would snatch it away, with a muttered, "no. No, I guess not." And go after the next box.

Harriet had stopped wandering and was standing in a little niche in the corner where two counters came together at a indefinable angle because a support pillar behind one of them kept it from being placed in proper alignment with the others.

Padma saw Ollivander smile knowingly at Harriet, and was sure that Ollivander knew why she'd decided to stand right there.

After another trip past that section of shelves Ollivander took three boxes off the shelf and dropped them near Harriet, "Try those, dear."

Then he rushed away to grab some more and brought them to Parvati.

Harriet reached into the first box.

"No dear, try the next." Yelled Ollivander from the far side of the shop.

Harriet stared at him for several seconds.

"Next, one," yelled Ollivander and made a jump-over-to-the-next motion with his hand as if she might be hard of hearing.

Harriet shrugged and closed the box, and opened the next.

Parvati squeaked, Padma turned around to see several sparks drift across the room from where Parvati was standing.

"Well well," said Ollivander, "I was right, now we just need to find your length," and he shoved all the boxes aside and ran back to the shelf where he'd pulled the last group of boxes.

He grabbed twelve, all from the exact shelf that he'd taken from last time and brought them to Parvati. The second one he gave her made showers and showers of sparks.

"And there you have it," said Ollivander, "Unicorn hair in ash, somewhat springy, a good all purpose combination."

Then he yelled across the shop, "That's enough, put that one back in the box too,"

"But I can make _sparks_," said Harriet.

"And what colour are they?"

Silence, while everyone looked at her and she swished the wand some more. Padma didn't _see _any sparks.

"I couldn't really say," she said.

"You're working too hard in any case," he said, "but it's probably the right length. Put it back, we'll find you one the fits _you_."

"Alright," she said dejectedly and put the wand back.

"How about you young lady," Ollivander said staring at Padma, "Are you going to wander until you feel a pull, or try the wands that almost matched your sister, or sit like a princess and wait for me to bring specimens for you to examine?"

"What do you prefer?" said Padma.

"Ah, Ah, Ah," said Ollivander, "What do you prefer?"

"I want to sit until you're done with her, and then come with you and swish whatever you tell me to swish, while you also explain why you pick out the stack of specimens for me that you do."

"No," said Ollivander, "I'll explain after, if you still care. Not before and not during. It works better if you're concentrating on the wand, not on learning my filing system."

"Alright," said Padma.

And he turned and went over to Harriet, and started pulling more boxes down from near where he'd gotten the other three he'd given her to try.

She tried them all, usually putting them back in their boxes without prompting. Though now and then after she put one back in the its box she'd slide the box under her left hand, pushing away the previous box that had been under her left hand.

Padma didn't know what Ollivander was doing, but she could tell what Harriet was doing. She was keeping track of the one she liked best so far, just in case Ollivander didn't find a better one.

"Padma," said her mother, "why don't you do what he said and try the wands that were close to correct for your sister."

Padma obeyed of course. And given that anyone could use Harriet's bookmarking technique, she had no objection to starting the process without Ollivander watching. If she kept out the better choices, perhaps it wouldn't be wasted time.

Several of the wands felt 'alive?' in her hand, but none made sparks. She made it through all four stacks before she found one that she thought had made a spark but it didn't … feel alive.

...

She put the three that she'd sort of liked in a pile at the end and turned back around. Harriet had two boxes under hand and seemed to be waiting for Ollivander to make another suggestion.

He picked up her two boxes and read the labels, "Dragon heart string, Pine, and dragon heart string, fir, both eleven inches. Did we even check whether dragon heart string was the best core for you, or did I let you lead me astray by standing here?"

Harriet shrugged.

Ollivander made a circuit of the whole store pulling out several boxes at a time and bringing them all back to place in front of Harriet. She tried them one by one getting no sparks from any of them.

Padma still hadn't figured out much about Ollivander's wand finding technique, but she was certain she saw the exact moment his expression changed from annoyance to an interested mystification.

"Wait here," he said as if she hadn't been doing that for half an hour. Then he made his way quickly out the door into the back room. A moment later he was back with a box with a red label.

He opened it and held it out to her like it was some sort of treasure.

When she picked it up it made several sparks, mostly red and green. Her face soured and the tendons in her neck tightened. The sparks stopped and she held it out toward Ollivander and dropped it back in the box.

"No," she croaked, "not that one,"

"You made sparks," squeaked Parvati.

"That's not all it does," Harriet said a little more like normal voice, "I don't want that one."

"Really," said Ollivander in a careful monotone, "would you like to explain why?"

"It's familiar," said Harriet, "I don't know how or why, but not familiar in a good way, I don't want it."

"But it didn't … hurt you?" said Ollivander.

"No, not exactly just the feeling of bad … memories, why?" said Harriet.

"It's phoenix tail feather," said Ollivander, "Only the blackest of witches are hurt by phoenix exposure, but you seem to be describing something different." He looked around the room as if to verify something. Something other than the fact that Padma had reached the end of her stack and was standing nearby, ostensibly bored.

"Hmm," said Harriet, and looked at the wand some more, but she made no move to touch it again.

"Alright," said Ollivander, "but perhaps it should be something similar." He took it in back and came back with three more with red labels. None of them seemed to fit Harriet.

"Perhaps something else exotic, but sticking with the softwood theme."

He frowned and bent down under the counter and pulled out twelve boxes that must have been right _at _Harriet's feet.

He put them on the counter and sorted through the three black boxes and opened one. From the way it folded and the click it made on the counter Padma guessed that it was ebony instead of paperboard

"Try this one."

Harriet picked up the wand and shook it, "Nope," she said and put it back in the box.

There were two green boxes and the rest were blue, Ollivander sorted them all out and seemed surprised by something about one of the green boxes. In any case it and two of the blue were pushed across the table to Harriet.

She opened the green box first, when she touched it she said, "Hmm," and she _kept_ humming as she slid her hand carefully around it and pulled it gently from the box.

The tip left a fine line of sparks in the air. No shooting, no falling to the ground or rising to the ceiling, just a fine line tracing wherever she moved it.

She wrote her initials in the air.

"Curious," said Ollivander, "would you care to try the other two?"

"No thanks," she said brightly her focus staying closely on the wand in her hand.

"I really must insist you at least touch them," he said.

"I really really couldn't do that," said Harriet, "sorry to disappoint you," and she turned away her total concentration seemed to be focused on the trail of sparks left in the air by her every accidental and intentional motion with the wand.

"Would you like to explain why?" said Ollivander, "I really did intend you to only try that one if neither of the others suited you."

"I'm not sure how to explain," said Harriet then her mouth dropped open and her face turning red. Perhaps she could explain after all.

"Why does it matter," said the professor. _So he wasn__'t useless after all._

"It's bloody damn expensive is all," said Ollivander, "Also professional curiosity."

"How expensive?" said the professor and Harriet at the same time.

"Eighty Galleons," said Ollivander.

Harriet shivered and cradled the wand close to her chest.

"Thirty five," said Snape.

"I ought to be charging over one twenty," snapped Ollivander, "but … she's got a pretty face."

The professor snatched up the green box and studied the label.

And _he_ shivered and put it down, "Try the other two," he croaked.

"Don't _say_ that," said Harriet, "I'll pay eighty, it's fine."

"Harriet Matirni, try the other two wands,"

"Stop saying that, Uncle Severus," said Harriet, "if you _knew _you wouldn't say that, you wouldn't even think it."

"If I knew what?" said the professor.

"If you had three sons," said Harriet, "and you found me sl— snogging one of them, would you insist I try the other two?"

Paul turned his back on the conversation and Rajeeta turned and stalked toward the door, throwing her arms out to the sides as if to catch both her daughters and lead them out also, but neither of them were withing reach.

"No," said Ollivander and the Professor together.

"No, I wouldn't even think it," agreed the professor, "pay for your wand."

She started counting coins onto the counter in stacks of ten.

Padma wondered how many she'd actually been carrying, and after Professor Snape had recommended that only 75 would be necessary.

While she counted Ollivander put the eleven colourful boxes back under the counter, and started stuffing white boxes back onto the shelves. Apparently there was a fairly strict order to them. Which made sense given how fast he seemed to find the boxes he wanted to pull off the shelf.

Padma suddenly realised that Harriet was counting so slowly because she was using only her left hand; her right hand was still clutched around the wand.

"You could put it in your pocket and use two hands," whispered Padma.

Harriet shook her head, then shrugged and said, "I'm done anyway,"

Ollivander turned his attention to the counter, and swept the piles of galleons off the counter into a leather bag he had handy, the coins dropped in without making a sound. There was probably something interesting about that bag.

"Chimera tail sinew, holly wood, 11 inches, nice and supple," said Ollivander handing Harriet the box, "perfect for healing, also powerful for shields of various types. Protect it well and it will protect you."

Harriet grinned hard enough that it made her vibrate.

...

Ollivander turned to Padma and motioned for the three boxes she had under her arm.

Padma handed them over. He glanced at the labels and held them apart, two separated from one.

"Tell me about them?" he said.

"Two felt … alive but didn't do anything, one gave me a spark, I think, or maybe three."

"Yes, yes, Of course," he said, "Colour?"

"Yellow,"

He nodded and looked at the boxes again, and put them down. He turned back to the shelf and ran his hand down a row of boxes until he found one he liked the looks of and pulled it out from under about six more and handed it to her.

She opened it and drew out the wand, but she didn't need to do that much, she knew as soon as she touched it.

She grinned, she had a wand.

_It should look as magical as it feels_, she thought, and there was a fountain of sparks.

_That__'s enough_, she thought, and they stopped.

_There should be lots of sparks that all stay at the end of my wand_, she thought, _even when I wave it around_. It sort of did that, and sort of felt like it was getting ready to do something else. "Why won't it light," she whispered wanting it harder.

When she said 'light' all the sparks she'd wanted all popped out the end of her wand and started orbiting the tip so fast she mostly couldn't see them.

"Ha," she said. They also seemed to change from sparks of sparky-ness into sparks of making the light she'd wanted.

"I'm not the charms professor," said Snape, "but that's _not_ a proper lumos charm, it doesn't shine out the end properly."

"I didn't do 'lumos'," said Padma, "I did 'light', how do I turn it off?"

"Either you stop casting the charm, or you use the appropriate finishing charm, which has the incantation of 'finite' or 'finite incantatem' depending on the spell you're working with. Then again many light related spells have 'nox' for their finishing spell."

"Oh," said Padma and thought, _that__'s enough, it's time that ended, finite. _"Finite!"

The sparks changed from rapidly orbiting light sparks to almost nothing sparks and slid away into the distance, or perhaps they evaporated.

...

By that time Paul had finished paying for his daughter's wands and they all made their way toward the door.

"Wait," said Padma and turned back, "How did you find my wand?"

"The wand chooses the witch," said Olivander, "even after I do all my fancy sorting to keep you from needing to try the whole store one by one."

"Tell me how your fancy sorting works anyway?"

"Unicorn hair cores are over there, dragon heart string cores are over here, most of the feather cores are over there. Each shelf is a different wood, each column is a different length, well … within reason.

"The more exotic cores are under the counters, or in back, depending cost and on whether I'm selling them on consignment or whatever."

"So how did you find mine so fast?"

"Those three that almost worked for you," he said, "Yours is the same wood and length as your sister, which is common for twins, but they have different cores."

**{End Chapter 3}**


	4. Draco, bored enough to attempt his duty

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Draco at Malkin's**

Draco had worked hard to make sure that he knew his parents' wishes; especially his father's wishes regarding his clothes. He knew them well enough that no unfortunate misunderstandings should occur. And he'd taken notes, and rearranged them in a logical progression. And copied them out in his own hand, so there would be no confusion on the part of the seamstresses about which notes were his own wishes and which requirements were his fathers.

At home all three of them had negotiated all of them, and Draco was properly acting as his own agent representing the interests of the family.

Because, after all, how he looked in front of the public reflected on the family just as much as if he had a hand in it as if he didn't.

It had started out as a bit of a homework assignment, but Draco had taken it much farther. And his parents had let him.

...

And it wasn't as if he'd never gone with them to buy custom tailored clothes before. He knew what needed to happen. He knew what sort of schedule everything ought to take. He'd even known most of the terms describing the design and construction of clothes that would be needed, even before he started.

...

And now here he was, being measured by one of Madam Malkin assistants, while Madam Malkin herself studied his notes and asked him questions to verify that she understood what he'd written.

And so far she'd mostly made appreciative noises and approving nods.

It was a heady feeling, realising that the extra homework you did is already paying off, and will continue.

Actually, the thing she'd done the most of while reading his notes, was making notes of her own, and measurement charts. The measurement charts she passed on to the shop girl who was tending the measuring tapes that were wound around him in all of the usual places, and a few he hadn't remembered being needed before.

...

The bell rang as a large party trooped in, Draco had tried to place himself where he'd be able to see the door, without being in immediate evidence. It had only sort of worked. And of course the shop girl had felt free to direct him to stand any way she pleased. And then ordered him not to move, not even his head.

So from where he stood now he could see the heads of three adults a dark-skinned blond in green, a dark-skinned black-haired woman in a muted orange, and a light skinned, black haired man in a black robe.

They talked in lowered voices, casting eyes to the left of the door. To all appearances keeping their eyes on things moving among the mommets and fashion samples.

He tried to twist his eyes to that side without turning his head or ruining his posture.

...

Gradually they made their way deeper into the shop and he caught glimpses of what they were wearing, and of the children wandering among the racks and samples. Fairly unusual clothing, perhaps muggles. Or perhaps they were disguised as muggles, or thought they were. Their disguises weren't very good, at least not as far as he was aware of muggle fashion. Conversely their costumes seemed too well put together for something thrown together last moment because the floo was down, or whatever had forced them to try to pass for muggles. Perhaps they weren't tourists from the continent.

...

The child in auror's-red, and fancy white boots intermittently squealed in excitement over all the fashion samples or the fabric samples or even the colours.

The one in grey shadowed her. Draco's first impressions was 'Bodyguard!' He'd seen the way his father's bodyguards flanked him. And he'd seen others practising to do the same.

But this girl, for now he could see that all three of them had their hair up in a most becoming manner, had pockets that bulged with books and notepads. A personal assistant then? Were they child actresses?

A personal assistant would be so much more useful than a bodyguard. But if he asked for one, or more likely hinted at the possibility as subtly as he could manage, his father would only sneer and ask him how his perfect recall exercises were progressing.

Because after all, the fewer people who knew your secrets, the less it would spread. The fewer people who needed to know a plan, the less chance of your rivals of hearing about it too soon. The fewer people who knew your schedule, the less chance of an ambush.

The focus of the three adults suddenly turned inward, and they seemed to be negotiating something in low tones. And the mannerism of the man with black hair reminded Draco of his godfather, Uncle Severus. He almost turned his head so he could check properly instead of this straining his eyes toward the edge of their range.

The last girl noticed the change also, and stood on her toes to see above the racks and glance around the whole shop. Noticing him, and Madam Malkin.

She seemed independent of the other two, or he was making an assumption based on her skin colour. Nor did she seem much inclined to wait upon the direction of the adults. Perhaps even taking over the guard roll when their attention was pulled inward? Was she trusted to be her own agent then, just like Draco? Or at least confident that she should be. Perhaps she was taking their temporary distraction as a chance to act while unsupervised.

...

She turned and came his way, stopping about a yard away, watching the measuring process with interest.

Was she judging how much longer before she could get assistance, or … was it her first time here?

"Watch out, dear," said the shop girl and scuttled sideways, intent on her work.

"No problem," said the girl in blue, backing up a step, then returning to her place as soon as the shop girl had moved around to Draco's side.

It was an angled that gave her a better view of the size chart that the assistant was filling in.

She took a long time to examine it.

So she knew something about clothes also? Perhaps even a more detailed knowledge than the girl in white boots was giving evidence of.

Finally she lost interest and glanced over Draco and seemed about to look away when something arrested her gaze and she stepped closer. And far enough to the side that she was sliding out of his field of vision. Under what circumstances would his profile be more interesting than his expression or his attention?

"I'm afraid you have me at something of a disadvantage," said Draco.

"How so?" she said.

"You can look me over all you like, but I can't properly turn my head to the side to return the favour."

"Ah," she stepped to the side with a single graceful motion that was half pirouette and half curtsy. Placing herself directly in front of him.

"You smirk like my Godfather," he told her.

"You have my uncle's chin, well not chin exactly, the way your cheek muscles attach to your jaw. Are you descended from the House of Black? And perhaps with some Veela ancestry somewhere?"

"The French is from my father's side. And my mother's maiden name was Black," he said, "so are we cousins?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not," she said, "He was not my mother's brother, but her sister's husband. If we are true cousins it's from farther back."

"Ah," he said, and let his eyes wander down, under her arm she held a wand box, and in her hand she clutched what was probably the wand in question. She clutched it like it was the handle of her favourite broom.

"First wand?" he said.

"Yes," she said proudly, and grinned.

Definitely new today. He remembered the feeling when he first held a wand that was actually right for him. Ollivander had scolded halfheartedly that he'd been allowed to try to learn on a legacy wand. Draco could imagine any number of reasons why the wand maker might have been scolding, and twice as many why Draco ought to be thankful that he'd not pressed his impudence much farther.

His eyes strayed to the box again and the end facing him, "Chimera tail sinew," proclaimed the label. "128 galleons" said the price tag. He'd only heard of a Chimera sinew wand in an old catalogue he'd found in a pile of rubbish while exploring one of the outbuildings of the summer chalet, apparently there was a mildly infamous foreign villain who'd settled in that part of France several hundred years before. The advertisement seemed to hint that such a wand would be more of interest as a piece of history or a collector's item than as a normal person's wand. Which could be a veiled hint at dark possibilities and with a ready made alibi provided, in case you felt the need to have one crafted before you purchased such a thing.

128 galleons was enough to pay for half the dress robes he'd be ordering today.

And she (or her family) had paid that much for just a _wand_.

His eyes flicked over her whole outfit. Or as much as he could see without moving his head.

He couldn't place her cloak over dress combination. The exuberant use of bright colour felt normal enough, but something was off.

Or she just brought her fashion advice from a different part of the continent than his family generally frequented.

"Alright, done with that one," said the shop girl while climbing to her feet and pulling the measuring robe away.

Draco relaxed in relief, and wiggled the flexibility back into his limbs.

When he was free he took a half step forward and presented his hand, "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said.

She shook solemnly, "Pleased to meet you Mr. Malfoy. My name is Harriet Matirni."

"Miss Matirni, is that Italian?"

She shook her head, "Slovenian I think, I believe it's an archaic brewing term. Dad's family has been brewers and healers for generations."

Draco was distracted from answering while the shop girl threw a smock over him that was meant for measuring kimonos and similar sorts of jackets.

When his face was free and he realised that he had nothing to say about Slovenia, he went with, "Your English is Impeccable." He sounded like a dolt.

"It should be, my mother is from Weston-super-Mare."

"Where?"

"Near Bristol,"

"Oh," he said, "but …" now he sounded like a super dolt. She didn't seem to mind.

"Grand-Da saw Mum's potions work and thought someone so accomplished so young ought be folded into the family before anything resembling competition sprang up. So he told his sons as much and they drew straws for first right to court, and," she shrugged, "she turned down one for caring more about runes than about potions. And another for caring more about … charms, so she was left with the one who … well Da pretends he's only an apothecary, but he's taught me almost as much about brewing as Mum did, and he reads a lot about alchemy when he's not busy with other things."

Draco was impressed, some adults wouldn't have told their children that much about their courtships, or arranged marriages, and that sounded like it were an odd mix of the two extremes. Though most children who knew didn't just blurt it out…

Which implied someone thought she had a head for breeding calculations or political planning, though perhaps she needed a bit more training to know what to share and with whom. He didn't know exactly how and who had selected his parents to meet each other with possible courtship in mind, but they hadn't been idiots, the history of their accomplishments together was proof enough of that.

"What did you say your Mother's family was called?"

"You wouldn't have heard of it," said Harriet, "It only passes by the female line, when the mother dies without female issue odd things happen."

"How odd," said Draco.

"I'm not sure I understand well enough to explain."

"Try?"

"Last time it happened," said Harriet, "was Harry Potter."

"So this family magic we're talking about … you're related to Lily Potter in your maternal line?"

"My Aunt,"

Therefore the late Lord Potter was her uncle and his mother _had _been Dorea Black. So she was right about that, but what about… "I thought she was a muggle born,"

"No way," said Harriet, "the line is magic users for generations, though we're not always wand users. But the potions and other family magic passes on just fine. My godfather …"

Severus Snape cleared his throat.

She looked up, "Hello Professor Snape," she said, "My friend Draco Malfoy." She turned back, "Mr. Malfoy, My godfather, The potions professor at Hogwarts."

"We've met," said Draco, drinking in his godfather's sneer.

"Quite," said Severus, "Draco, Is your father nearby?"

_It had been long enough he would be done at Bourgin &amp; Burk's. _"He should be at the apothecary's across the street."

"Thank you," he said, "Harriet, will you mind the senior Patils as needed, and more importantly Madam Malkin, and refrain from leading her astray into selling you robes made of acromantula silk or basilisk armour or anything else that will cost eleven times what a set of Hogwarts robes should cost?"

Harriet stared at him.

"If you think this sentiment is unreasonable, let me remind you that you are eleven and likely to be up to a foot taller by the time you finish your second year and even stretching charms have their limit,"

"Yes, I can remember," said Harriet.

"Good," he said, "I'll return within the hour. I hope that neither I nor any of the rest of the party will be forced to wait too long." He strode away.

"Does he _always_ get like that when he's in a hurry?" she sighed.

Draco was confused, "He's _your _godfather,"

She sighed again, "Sometimes I'm not certain if he likes me, or if he just likes to admire how much better a godchild I am than either of my brothers, who he just as easily might have been offered,"

And Draco was absolutely convinced that his godfather did not approve of Vincent or Gregory.

"Never mind that," said Draco, "What were you saying earlier?"

"I don't remember,"

"Are you going to introduce me to your … the rest of your party?"

"Those are the Patil twins, Padma in grey, and Parvati in red. Their mother Rajeeta is in the sari and father Paul is in the green riding clothes."

"Do you know their blood status?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means … do they need pure bloods to sponsor them into the community,"

"I'm not entirely sure what that would mean, nor whether they would see the need, nor whether they'd be allowed to accept the alliance if it weren't from … their caste, they have to be very picky about the oddest things."

"Hindu?" said Draco.

Miss Matirni nodded.

"Ah, I see," said Draco, "I have no idea how things are done in India. Here in England, pure blood is the caste with the responsibility of welcoming the muggleborn into the community. Half blood is the middle caste. To become pure blood they must fulfil certain requirements both regarding knowing their ancestry, and regarding keeping enough gold in reserve in case they are called upon to sponsor a muggleborn, that part is all rather complicated, but the everyday aspects boil down to some fairly simple rules of etiquette. Certain forms of respectful address to the castes higher than your own. Certain forms of concern for castes lower than your own. Speaking of which, do you know how your schooling being paid for?"

"Yes,"

"Do you know which house is covering your tuition?"

"Yes," she didn't seem ready to talk about it. It was in fact none of his business. As long as she her parents hadn't been rude enough to refuse any help, and especially any tuition offered. It would be incredibly unfair to be reckoned a mudblood for your parent's lack of manners instead of your own.

"Good," he said, "your line is a client line of that house until their help is no longer necessary,"

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that house could be responsible to pay for the tuition of all your children for four generations, or until all your descendants are married into pure-blood lines, or until they are obviously wealthy enough that no assistance is necessary. They are also responsible to provide other forms of mentoring that perhaps are more important than tuition. Speaking of, are you going to Hogwarts, or somewhere on the continent."

"Hogwarts," she said.

"Excellent," Draco said, "Me too."

"Hypothetically speaking," she said, "suppose the pure-blood line who sponsored me to Hogwarts, wasn't able to provide the mentoring you spoke of?"

A sick feeling clenched around Draco's stomach. "That's not supposed to happen," he said, "There should always be enough relatives to provide the training you need. Being assigned mentors from other client lines is even allowed."

"How close do the relatives have to be?"

Draco shrugged, "I'm not sure it's specified, even if no connection exists, families trade favours all the time, or even hire tutors, though that is less common, in order to keep their own obligations covered, and their standing honourable."

She nodded, "When … when we asked, and when he donated my tuition I'm not sure he knew all that."

"Not sure _who _knew all that," said Draco, "You mean your sponsor sponsored you without knowing what was involved?"

"I'm afraid he might have," said the girl, half thoughtful, half forlorn, "his parents died, there's probably a lot that he hasn't been taught."

Draco had the split vision of talking to a heathen savage who might start spewing blasphemies at any moment, or perhaps just had. And of watching an orphan mourning the loss of _another_ orphan's parents rather than her own. Except it wasn't parents she was missing but certain other opportunities.

He wanted to save her quick before anything happened to her, quick before anyone else realised she was an uneducated savage and got the wrong impression about why she might be uneducated.

If she had the breeding of a pure blood, but not the history inside the magical world, or at least not the background of Wizarding Britain to act civilised…

He ached to give her a chance.

And he was painfully aware that he couldn't officially do much without his father's approval. And he wasn't sure how much his father could do for her if she already had an incomplete sponsorship blocking him from offering her a real sponsorship. And his father almost certainly wouldn't approve without establishing what was going on with the other uneducated person who had the wherewithal to pay her tuition but not to tutor her about the culture she was about to enter. But even without his father, surely he could give her hints, point her to books she should read, such as the ones his father had given him to study, the other older books that his mother made him read. She might need help paying for some of them… He glanced at her wand box, somewhere there was money, and a will to use it on necessities. And those books were more necessary than a fancy wand. And a fancy wand … especially if it suited her as well as her caressing indicated, was much more necessary than fancy silk pyjamas that no one would see because he was getting his own room, because he was a child of a member of the board of governors and that meant special privileges. Though Draco had the feeling it might be so that normal pupils never figured out that the children of members of the board of governors were humans too, as if that would work for very long.

But more to the point, which house had the wherewithal to be offering scholarships? And without knowing that they needed to negotiate and honour proper contracts for sponsorship of client lines.

It might be a terribly one-sided trade of information, and she might not be trained to negotiate trades of information. So would it be most honourable if he negotiated with himself on her behalf? Or had he gotten mixed up with different levels of meta-thinking.

No, but it did sound like sort of the right thing to do.

Basically he promised himself that he'd give her the information she needed if she gave him a specific amount of information in return…

Yes, that would work. And if she gave more, that would just go toward paying for the next piece of information she might need from him.

"Who did you say your sponsor is?" he said, trying to keep a casual tone.

"Well after you explained all that," she said, "I'm not sure if he counts as a sponsor."

"Point," said Draco, "perhaps you should write him and try to get a clarification, or perhaps your parents know even if his guardians don't." There were after all, many houses that had lost many members in the last war. There might even be semi-wealthy client lines offering each other scholarships as well as raising the lordlings of their sponsor houses because the sponsors had taken so many casualties.

She wasn't budging, or maybe she was negotiating without telling him that she knew they were negotiating?

So an equally subtle response? "I want to give you the titles of some books. I _highly _recommend you read them before you start school, perhaps you should also make sure your sponsor gets the information as well."

"Oh," she said, "yeah." A wistful look. That wasn't the look of disgust at the idea of additional homework, so…

"I'd even offer to give you the gold to buy them."

She frowned.

"He gave me access to a kid's trust vault account thingy, for buying school supplies," she said, "are these the sorts of books that I could properly spend school supply money on?"

"Yes, definitely," he said, "If you actually read them, well not just read, but actually _study_ them, and learn how to use them to negotiate properly for your line and as a honourable client for your sponsor. That could be like two thirds of the mentoring he's supposed to provide you with."

"Oh," she smirked, "so if I buy them he should be like, thanking me, for buying them with his money instead of my own?"

Draco grinned, "Exactly, Who did you say your sponsor was?" It's not like he couldn't compile a long list of 50 families once he got home. Perhaps he could shorten it to perhaps ten, if he could get accurate information about her family, and so far he only had her last name, Matirni, and the knowledge that her mother was the sister of Harry Potter's mother.

Wait.

She was still reluctant to say, though she remained silent as if she'd run out of ways to dodge the question. And if that was the answer he'd be either be capitalising on it like crazy or he'd be entirely reluctant to claim it in front of strangers.

He was a little sad that he might still count as a stranger to her. Still he had a guess that he'd almost be willing to put money on. And if he were wrong, … telling a lie that would be very easy to contradict was also sometimes useful interrogation trick…

"Oh, I see," he said, "I bet it was your cousin who started sponsoring you by accident."

She looked confused for a split second, then surprised.

"And he probably doesn't actually want you to be telling anyone that you've met him, let alone hint that if you get into certain kinds of trouble, the great Harry Potter might come and bail you out."

Her surprise solidified, "How did you know?"

He shrugged, "You told me enough to figure it out, I thought I was pathetically slow." She hadn't really, she'd told enough that his father might have been able to figure it out, or Blaise, he had to introduce her to Blaise and get him on her side.

She looked properly alarmed. Perhaps it would stand for a lesson in discretion.

"If you prefer," he said, "when you must confess of a passing understanding of a to House Black or House Potter, don't bother to claim a connection to them. It keeps people guessing if you at most tell how you know but never why you cared. And if someone tries to pin you down, you can mention an acquaintance in any of the pure blood houses, and hint that you saw pictures or genealogies while visiting. Then they can worry themselves sick about why Draco Malfoy was boring a poor witch to death with old genealogies, rather than let them do several quick calculations and say, 'Ah, that Matirni girl is the cousin of Heir Potter, do you suppose he'd pay ransom for her?' or 'send her a howler on our behalf' or whatever their game is."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Alright, I'm back," said the shop girl, "Arm's up let's get this off you."

Draco complied,

"I'll be right back," she said and turned toward the back room.

Two other shop girls bustled in, one still smacking her lips and running her tongue over her teeth. So that's where they'd been. It was a bit early for lunch, but perhaps they expected a certain percentage of clientele who could only get away to shop over lunch. He'd thought this were a better sort of shop than that, but perhaps father had always brought him earlier in the day.

They went over to Madam Malkin to report in and receive instruction which of the customers to help first.

Madam Malkin glanced at Draco and his conversation partner, before leading them over to the woman who seemed to be the sole adult still present from the original party. A moment later they were converging on the two olive skinned girls trying on the dress robes that Draco was sure only Augusta Longbottom could properly pull off.

Or to be exact, the one in the red outfit was standing on a stool and trying on robes, and the one in grey was alternately helping, or standing back to admire, or reprimanding her for something or other.

"Do you have something to write on?" said Draco.

"I've got a pen," she said.

Draco frowned and contemplated the contents of his pocket for a moment before snatching up the shop girl's notepad from the floor and flipping open to remove a blank sheet from near the end.

When he looked up she had put her wand back in it's box and had brought a muggle style pen out from somewhere.

"Do you use that for everything?" he said cautiously. He'd heard his father complain something about muggleborn and muggle style writing implements.

"Everything except for _rune work_," she said as if he were stupid.

_That _was interesting. And implied all sorts of things about what her half-muggle family might have been teaching her while his family had tutored him in etiquette and the duties of a pureblood heir.

The fact that a quarter of what Mum believed was at odds with what Da believed, made things odd, but it was always possible to err on the side of politeness.

"Should be fine for taking notes then," he said, "You want 'The House of Honour,' and 'In Magic's Debt,' and 'The Pureblood Way.' if you finish those and want to try a different perspective that comes out to the same philosophy but requires you to give people the benefit of the doubt in a different set of ways, try: 'Family First and Magic Follows,'"

She'd given up trying to use her hand for a desk and sat on the floor to use her wand box for a desk.

She repeated the list and he repeated himself until she had all four titles right.

"Only Pureblood Way and Family First should cost very much. Family First has been out of print for a while, it's closer to the way the House of Black believed, but…" he stopped.

Madam Malkin seemed to have gotten the other two shop girls safely ensconced with the other two customers and come over to claim the attention of a customer who could so thoroughly monopolise the attention of the scion of Malfoy. Of course, one must somehow reckon the fact that the scion of Malfoy had been metaphorically anchored in one spot, and welcomed the distraction.

"Pardon me, miss…" said Madam Malkin.

"Hi," Miss Matirni obviously took that as a greeting, not as a greeting and a hint to introduce herself.

Draco performed the needful.

"Madam Malkin, this is Harriet Matirni. Miss Matirni, this is Madam Malkin,"

Matirni beamed and held out her hand.

_Oh, but she needed an etiquette tutor so much!_

Malkin beamed back and had the grace to take the offered hand before curtsying over it. She seemed to think Matirni cute, so that was alright.

"So, are you headed to Hogwarts also?" said Madam Malkin.

Belatedly, Matirni curtsied back. "Yes, Ma'am." She did it very well, but with a twinkle in her eye that didn't match performing a courtesy. She thought she was play acting and was amused by the part.

"Will you be wanting anything besides standard uniform robes?"

Matirni frowned and turned to Draco, "what sorts of play clothes will be permitted during free hours, or… anything like that?"

Draco could halfway guess the answer to that question from his shopping list. But that would be the answer for the male half of the pupils. He didn't have a clue otherwise.

If only he'd been a second year when she'd asked that he could have been much more helpful.

Luckily Malkin knew.

_Of course, Malkin knew. And she led her around and showed her various things._

_Hopefully Matirni would be able to follow her godfather's advice about not buying that which wasn't intended to be on the shopping list__…_

_What was the deal with the wand?_

The wand that had been left behind on the floor with a piece of paper and a pen.

Draco was sorely tempted to pick up the whole pile and shove it in his pocket, and find some subtle way to pass it to his godfather.

But it wasn't really his place to decide which lessons Uncle Snape ought to be teaching the girl.

What was their connection called anyway. He'd heard of 'god-brothers' or 'god-sisters' and he thought that meant from a godchild to its godparent's birth children. But if they shared a godparent, did that make them god-siblings also, or were they more like god-cousins?

...

The shop girl came out again and held out a set of measuring trousers, "Put these on in the changing room over there," she said, "and we'll be able to finish up."

Draco glanced again at the pile of things left on the floor.

The shop girl seemed to get the idea, "I'll be standing right here and watch her things for you, just go change."

"Thanks," he said, and hurried off.

As soon as he had the door close behind him he knew that had been the easy out and not the correct choice, but he was stuck with the decision now, and might as well finish as quickly so as to resume his post as soon as possible.

When he returned she had moved the paper and pen to a nearby shelf and was holding the box in her hands looking very thoughtful.

"What are you thinking to make your face look like that?" he said.

"I knew a girl once," she said, "Her wand was also chimera tail sinew, had some odd properties. I was just wondering what Ollivander knows about your friend, and how much he would say aloud."

"No doubt he would say much less than he knows," said Draco and held out his hands, "Do you mind?"

She handed the box over and he put it on the shelf with the paper and pen. He was careful to handle it just a bit roughly, so he could feel the slide and rattle from inside the box, to assure himself that there was still a wand inside. He didn't open it to check if it was the right wand, he hadn't actually paid enough attention to be sure he could identify it. His father would reprimand him for that. He though Draco ought to be able to observe everything at the same time and recall it perfectly at a moment's notice. Perhaps someday he would be able to.

She started to kneel down again, then frowned, "I say!" she said, "Accio stool, accio cushion."

When she was satisfied with their placement she motioned him on top of the first and she sat on the second.

...

She was just straightening up when Draco saw his father and godfather and the other man in green crossing the street toward the door. It took them not a moment after they were inside to notice Draco.

The other man had eyes only for his wife and daughters. At least he seemed to take no more notice of Matirni than he did of Draco, and Draco made the easiest assumption.

"Hello father," said Draco, with a nod so small that instead of seeming like it were an insult for not being bigger it would be an admission of helplessness for being in the grip of a seamstress. "Hello…" he faltered, he'd been instructed not a week ago, but … he recovered quickly, "Professor Snape."

Professor Snape gave a minimal nod, and a minimal sneer: grudging approval.

...

"Father, we may have a problem, it's a little hard for me to calculate properly."

"What sort of problem?" said Lucius.

"My god-cousin over there," Draco nodded his head sideways, "in the blue robes, seems to have been accidentally, halfway sponsored by a second or third cousin of mine on Mum's side. I don't quite trust my memory of that part of her family tree. But according to what she's said, he may not realise that he's bumbling his way into sponsoring her, and to her knowledge he has not negotiated in good faith about mentioning his house's ongoing obligations, nor has he been up front about the obligations that will devolve on her as a client line, because he doesn't realise that such things exist, because he lost both parents in the last war and has not been raised to know his house's obligations as a pure blood line."

"Who," said Lucius, "if he becomes a blood traitor out of ignorance, the _mountains _of dishonour that ought to be assigned to the parties responsible…" Lucius shuddered, theatrically.

"I have no idea who oversaw _that_ portion of the fiasco," said Draco, well the dark lord oversaw the beginning, but there were any number interested parties who might have been responsible for gaining access to the newly orphaned Harry Potter and spiriting him away to wherever he was being so incompletely educated, "I thought that giving her a list of books she could read that would inform her of the things he ought to have provided mentors to explain, might provide a major alleviation to my honour, and if she buys them on his credit, it might go that much further for atoning his own. I also think there should be at least one book of standard etiquette, but I wasn't sure which title to suggest, I wasn't even sure if the best book for a girl would be one that I'd even seen." Draco risked the ire of the seamstress's apprentice and pointed to the pile of things on the shelf, _Professor_ Snape snatched them up and after glancing over the list passed it to Father.

"Reasonable, reasonable," said Father nodding, "What are your thoughts Severus."

"As to etiquette books for young women, I'd have to ask around. As far as the sponsorship questions. I'm … something of an old friend of the family," said _Professor_ Snape, "I'm beginning to think that when the family named me godfather, they were begging for me to sponsor the child, without explaining that to me, or realising that I don't have the required status. They might have also known the child was a witch and never bothered to mention it to me. I only became aware when I was semi-randomly assigned her name as a muggle born that needed to be shown where and how to buy her school supplies."

Lucius nodded, "Do either of these unfortunate souls have names?"

"She's Harriet Matirni," said Draco, "I'd rather not state in public the name her cousin who paid her scholarship without sponsoring her properly."

"This list is good," said Lucius glancing at it again, your mother would be pleased that you've included Family First. Especially if we're taking up this responsibility through the Black side of the family."

"When I tell you his name," said Draco, "either of you might know an additional book or two that might better set fourth the traditional perspective of his house."

They both shrugged and nodded.

Then Snape tensed his mask dropped over his face, "I commend you for choosing to not speak his name in public,"

Lucius's head snapped up and both Malfoy's stared at Professor Snape.

"I wouldn't worry about his house's perspective," said Professor Snape, "There were times I thought the previous lord more a blood traitor than a pure blood." Then he shrugged, "And though she was considered a muggle born, As far back as I've seen the genealogy, it's squibs and sensitives all the way. When they manage to breed a full witch or wizard, they still need introductions and mentoring to join the wizarding community, but as a family they don't really need anyone to go specially out of their way to introduce them to _magic_."

"Enough of this," said Lucius, "Let's go find lunch." Then he looked around, "I don't suppose your party would join us."

"My party," said Snape with distaste, "will be eating vegetarian or vegan unless I very much miss my guess, I'm just not sure which, or where."

Lucius glanced around, then muttered, "The quaint little Tibetan dive just beyond Knockturn Ally?"

Professor Snape looked suddenly relieved, "That might work, let me discuss it with the others."

They both nodded at each other and Professor Snape stalked away in the direction of the other adults.

"Alright child," said the shop girl, "Hop down and change into your own clothes."

"Alright," Draco said.

...

When he returned the stool and cushion were gone, the girl was flipping through her notes, making sure she had filled in all the measurements that Madam Malkin had asked for.

After several moments she said she was done. Lucius turned toward the door, and held out his hand toward Draco.

**{End Chapter 4}**


	5. Express

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters WOULD have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Express**

Harriet woke gradually to the friendly and familiar clump-clumping of carriage wheels on tracks. And to an uncomfortable feeling that seemed to indicate she'd fallen asleep somewhere other than her bed, which meant that whatever train she fallen asleep on wasn't the circus train. Then she noticed the sound slow and continue slowing. She came to herself just as the announcement finished playing, so she checked her borrowed watch and examined the schedule. It took several minutes longer than it would have if she'd been wide awake. But it did look like it would be her transition so she grabbed her locker and made her way to the end of the carriage waiting with a few of her fellow travellers and several morning commuters.

She was glad she didn't normally have to worry about time and catching trains. In the circus it was more about catching cues and keeping alert to the ring master and sudden rearrangements to the show sequence. Not synchronising everyone's schedule for something like a class. She hoped she didn't muff things too badly before she figured out how to get to classes on time.

...

Meanwhile the train slowed to a stop and she climbed down and turned toward platforms 9 &amp; 10\. Her godfather had explained where and how to find the Hogwarts Express. But that didn't stop her from wandering groggily by before realising her mistake and stopping to turn back. Which seemed to disgruntle of several mundanes who'd been following too closely behind her.

She uncharitably thought that it served them right, but she didn't say as much because she wasn't actually clear on what counted as standard necessities or standard etiquette for _passenger_ train stations and among train commuters.

Soon she was on the still empty platform and found quiet looking corner where she put down her locker and curled up on top of it.

...

She woke again as a train pulled in and hissed out a cloud of steam. A few people were around now, and many more were arriving, some through the hidden portal from kings cross station, and some were variously walking, climbing, or being tossed from a row of fireplaces.

And some were just appearing out of nowhere.

_Better put my public face on,_ she thought and sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

_Should I wait for the Patils or just board the train and go back to sleep?_

The Patils had come to London several days previously to stay with a cousin who would bring them sometime mid-morning.

The extra hour of sleep had made a big difference. She felt almost her normal self. A cup of tea would not be amiss, but she'd probably have to wait until the train was underway for that. Unless there were a vendor around, or she went back out into the bustle of the muggle portion of the station.

It looked as though most of the others were milling around meeting friends and making introductions to acquaintances. So maybe they weren't permitted to board the train until some signal was given. But still, to err on the side of caution she decided to move closer to the edge of the platform.

After measuring the distance to the train with her eyes she picked up her locker and shifted it again all the way to her shoulder before starting for the train. Just in time to be blocked by a large group of redheads flitting through the barrier with their trunks on hand trucks, like the roustabouts used for some of the heavier stage equipment.

_Ugh_, she thought as she recovered from the near collision, _so that's how those mundanes had felt when I stopped and turned around right in front of them._

No matter, she made her way around them, consciously making the decision to skirt them on the platform side of the gathering crowd, not risking the space between them and the barrier.

...

"Oi Fred," said someone in the crowd, "get a load of that firsty, do you suppose he's packing light or muscle?"

"Check the boots, George," said replied a voice that was almost identical, "that well dressed firsty is witch."

"Impressive," said Fred. And she heard them follow her at speed.

But no, they passed around her on both sides and made straight for the train. Between their choice to use hand trucks and their extra height it was not like she could have raced them.

When they reached the train they helped each other hand their trunks up without the slightest pause.

_So boarding now was permitted._

When she arrived they offered to help with hers.

She shrugged, about to protest. But the closer one took the motion to be her tensing to pass the locker off her shoulder into his waiting hands. And before she could explain otherwise he'd lifted it smoothly up to his brother.

Identical twin if her judgement wasn't off.

"Thanks," she said instead and climbed up after and picked up her locker again to stow it somewhere appropriate.

"Muscles," stage whispered one of them behind her, "Definitely muscles, quodpot do you suppose or horseback riding?

"Archery?" suggested the other one.

_Oh, they were wondering what she did regularly enough to have her muscles._

All she had to do was want muscles, but it was probably the acting and dancing (and the associated rigging) that let her know intuitively _where _she wanted her muscles for the task at hand. They didn't let her roustabout, but only because they didn't know or didn't trust how quickly she could change her muscle and bone configurations.

Or because they didn't want her littler cousins to follow in her footsteps and hurt themselves.

"Dancing," she said, "it takes both strength and skill to throw people around without hurting them."

Of course, mundanes probably didn't group trapeze work as dancing, but … well even some of the trapeze artists didn't know what they did was dancing, so that didn't mean much. Or it meant that her own perception of the world was skewed, which was the normal state of the world.

They'd stopped short at her statement.

_I was getting tired of them following me anyway_, she thought and opened a compartment, and put her locker down.

...

The latch rattled and the door opened, "Hello," said someone.

Harriet realised that she didn't know how long she'd been staring out the window at the motion of the crowd. She often found watching crowds to be hypnotic. Generally the only chance she had to indulge was at the top of Hathaway tower, and even then she always had a cue she was listening for.

She climbed down off the bench and turned toward the door.

"Hello," she said, "I'm Harriet Matirni"

"I'm Sally Ann Perks," said Sally Ann Perks.

Harriet decided that she didn't recognise the shape of Perks' face beyond a vague sense of 'Central England'

"Matirni?" said Perks, "Is that Italian?"

"No more like Romanian or Slovenian."

Perks shrugged, "they're all Romance languages right?"

"Yeah sort of," said Harriet.

A big girl came in with purple pink hair, "Oh good, here you are," she said.

"Huh," said Harriet and Perks and glanced back and forth between the new girl and each other.

"Watcher, Miss Matirni," said the taller girl, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Umm," said Harriet, "Do I know you?"

The girl's face changed and her hair turned pinker and then brown. The girl from the shop.

Perks screamed.

"Oh, it's You," said Harriet when the compartment was quiet enough to talk, "This is Sally-Ann Perks. What _is _your name?"

"Of course it's me. And the name is Tonks, I have a first name but I don't answer to it."

"Oh, OK," said Harriet. And made a curtsy.

Tonks returned it, and then made one to Perks, "Glad to meet you Miss Perks."

Perks was still too shocked or shy to return the gesture.

Tonks shrugged and turned back to Harriet.

"So you met my cousin Draco in the store," said Tonks, "his Dad came in just before you left. Did you notice him?"

Harriet shook her head.

"He looks something like this," Tonks straightened up and changed her face to look like Draco, only older, and without the Black cheeks, and with more veela in the straight, long hair.

"No, I didn't," said Harriet.

The man shrugged and turned back into the pink haired girl who first entered the compartment.

"Do you two mind if I sit?"

Harriet looked at Perks, who seemed shy but resolute, "yeah, you can stay."

"Thanks," said Tonks and sat down, "getting back to my story, Uncle Lucius." Her eyebrows twitched together, "that's Lord Malfoy, for those keeping track at home. Anyway Uncle Lucius, told me that the Black Family will be watching over the interests of all its members as best we can, in the absence of a head of house. My mum's cousin Sirius Black is in Azkaban, don't you know, he's head of the family, but not able to make a ruling, so in his absence there's the three Black daughters, that's my mum, Draco's mum, and Bellatrix Lestrange, also in Azkaban."

"Ohhhkay?" said Harriet not knowing where this was going. She'd heard of Azkaban but only in passing, and she couldn't remember if it was a loony bin or a prison.

"So anyway, Uncle Lucy ordered Draco's Mum to reconcile with my Mum, which they'd both been wanting to do, but putting off for a while, but Uncle Lucy can be persuasive when he feels like it, and he did, so they are now, so now Draco's parents and my parents and I and Draco have all agreed that in the absence of a sitting Lord Black, we're going to settle house matters between us, parliamentary style, and the biggest matter was that Heir Potter, one of our cousins, if you leave out Uncle Lucy and my dad, but you get the idea. Heir Potter is our cousin and might need help and he's taken it upon himself to sponsor you though he might not be in a proper position to do so."

"Wait," said Perks, "sponsorship is a real thing?"

"Yes," said Harriet and Tonks together.

"And people willingly promise themselves and their offspring for four generations to be vassals to established houses just for some tutoring in manners or something."

"It's not vassalage," said Tonks, "It's client lineage."

"What does that even mean?" said Perks.

"If you'd accepted that tutoring…" said Harriet.

Tonks sighed, "if you can imagine families as if they were people."

"Huh?" said Perks.

"When a family sponsors your family, it's sort of like their family adopts your family to be … well like a child until you are of age, but mostly like a younger sibling,"

"Ok," said Perks, "What does all that bullshit look like in practice?"

Tonks burst out laughing, "I like you. Of course it's all bullshit, so are all the other laws, but when everyone lives by the same ones, it makes life more predictable. We call it civilisation, but it's really just the bullshit that seems to have worked best so far."

"Umm," said Harriet and Perks.

"Too much irreverence all at once?" said Tonks, "Alright to answer your question… do you have any siblings?"

Perks shook her head, "Dad left before I was born."

"Bloody hell," said Tonks, "no wonder you've figured out that family is bull before you're twelve."

"He came back after I got my Hogwarts letter, he's married somewhere in Wales but he wanted to make sure that I either had a sponsor, or was willing to claim him as my dad and that he'd tutored me in a bunch of stuff."

"What happened?" said Tonks.

"Mum made him go away," said Perks.

Harriet and Tonks exchanged a glance, "Do you have a sponsor?"

"No," said Perks, "And you still haven't convinced me I want one."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," Tonks pointed at Harriet, "You called her a vassal, and I'm doing my duty as a member of her sponsor's house's sponsor's house, to inform you that there's a big difference between being a sharecropper/slave of someone, and being a … metaphorical younger cousin. With plenty of older cousins around to sweep in and save you if you get in over your head."

Harriet grinned at the picture.

Tonks turned to glare at Harriet, "that is not permission to go around getting in trouble, that is permission to come and ask for help, so that you get advice and don't end up _in_ trouble to start with."

Harriet nodded soberly.

"Which is precisely the message I came looking for you today to deliver, the adults all wanted to make sure that you weren't only going to Draco for help, for one, he's only your age, for another he's a boy. When a witch needs advice about certain things, she wants to go to another witch about them."

"Oh," said Harriet.

All three of them were blushing, some a bit more than the other.

"That's all, message delivered, I can go now…" said Tonks, "were there any questions?"

"You said House of Potter is client to House of Black?" said Harriet.

"_Was _client, not is client, but that's ancient history, it's its own house now, but they've remained friends, so to speak, and even intermarry from time to time. The House of Black sponsored the House Of Malfoy also, not nearly so long ago."

"What about the other name you mentioned, Lestrange?"

"No, Lestrange was a client line of the House of Nott. "

"Oh,"

"Next question?"

"Umm, you were talking about Heir Potter being… needing help too, are you, I mean, are the Blacks pretending to sponsor him again too, since he doesn't have parents to tutor him?"

"We're willing to, yes, though Uncle Lucy seemed to think that he's getting tutoring of some sort from someone, something about cold as a statue and twice as sharp. He's a little concerned that he might not be getting the tutoring he needs if he were to wish to come back to Britain after he finishes his schooling on the continent."

"Umm," said Harriet, "I've been sending him the books Draco told me to buy, after I finish reading them."

"Well that's a start," said Tonks, "Tell him what I was trying to explain earlier, that the acting House of Black, is willing to stand with him, should he need it."

"In exchange for acknowledging that he is a client house again, or acting like it until he is of age, or what is the cut off point?" said Harriet.

Tonks gave her an odd look, then shrugged, "the cut off point was as soon as he stops needing help. He's a Lord and all, if he goes around needing help all the time, then everyone will think he's a client house, if he goes around helping people they know he's fit to be a sponsor."

Harriet nodded and rubbed her forehead. "Alright, I'll tell him. He asked me about a week ago who Lord Malfoy was and why he was being written to by said Lord. I didn't know what to answer. Now I have useful information to give him."

"The other thing," said Tonks, "Heir Potter is a Black, sort of, through his grandmother. He could ask us for favours based on that connection alone, without worrying about all the other older connections. That's sort of the way Dad was looking at it I think."

"Alright," said Harriet.

Tonks turned to Perks, "Still don't want to find a sponsor house?"

Perks shrugged, "I guess it depends on what sort of family they are, and I think I'd rather they had nothing to do with Dad's family."

"Right," said Tonks, "Good call from the sound of it. Any more questions? Either of you?"

They both shook their heads.

"Alright, then I have one," she turned to Harriet, "What does Harry Potter look like?"

"His nose and eyes are like his Mum's, and his hair is like his dad's, and I can't explain his ears very well, and he has a scar on his forehead."

"What about his chin? Mouth?"

"It's mostly his dad, on both."

Tonks kept staring at her.

"It's a very House of Black sort of chin, not quite like Draco's… maybe if Draco worked enough that he needed his mouth for chewing instead of just talking."

Tonks burst out laughing again.

Even Perks giggled.

"As I remember, you did your fair share of talking when you met him."

Harriet shrugged, "I'm an actor."

"Actress," corrected Perks.

Harriet shrugged.

"And I suppose you were in makeup too?" said Tonks seeming to be disappointed.

"Well yeah," said Harriet, "Umm why do you say it like that?"

"The way you talk about faces made me wonder about why you've had practice observing the way you do, being a makeup artist and actress could explain it."

Harriet shrugged, "I suppose," _And a metamorphmagus, which I'm keeping a secret; and half-trained to cold read, though I always find that disconcerting information to be popping up in my head._

**{End Chapter 5}**


	6. First Night

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters WOULD have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Draco on the Express**

Draco was bored, he'd seen Blaise and said hello, and he'd seen Teddy, who had apparently decided that he wasn't going to be answering to Teddy at school, and he'd managed to avoid exchanging words with any known blood traitors. He had yet to see his goofier cousin who he'd only met in the last month. He _thought _she was still going to Hogwarts, and hadn't graduated last year.

He hadn't actually paid attention to that, though he was metaphorically kicking himself for not asking so simple a question. Even if she hadn't been, asking the question would have been an excellent way to signal that he valued her continued acquaintance. He hoped Da would find her a better job by next summer though.

He wandered farther down the hall, enjoying the smoothness in the way Gregory Goyle shadowed his movements. Vincent Crabbe not so much, if Draco had ever had _anyone _that he would let far enough into his confidences to wager with, he'd have wagered that Crabbe was assigned to him for the purpose of spying. Though the boy _was _big enough to inspire fear and he intended to use that to his advantage.

It suddenly occurred to him that Miss Matirni might not be able to identify the lurking blood traitors by sight, perhaps she would know a few by their family names.

He raced to the back of the train (it was the closest end) looking in all the left hand compartments for his cousin-by-third-cousin or whatever the proper term was. They got to the back and turned around, examining the other half of the compartments, again the compartments on his left as he went the other direction.

"Umm, boss, what are we doing?" said Goyle.

"Looking for my cousin, or … her apprentice," said Draco.

"Do we have to go so fast?" said Crabbe.

"You wouldn't get so out of breath if you didn't talk," said Draco irritably.

The kept quiet, and mostly even kept up with him.

Then he saw them, together even, Jackpot.

He knocked on the door.

They saw him and seemed to have a quick negation before any of them made a move to open it. But no one made a move to put their hair up, well Tonks was family. But the third girl he had never seen before.

"Hello Draco!" said Miss Matirni. With a neat curtsy.

He bowed, _Oh are we on first name basis?_ _Perhaps we should be,_ "Hello Harriet. How was your summer?"

She shrugged, "more educational than summers usually are, what with all the new books to read." _Was that a veiled compliment, or thanks? Probably veiled thanks, maintaining her and her sponsor's cover, very well done actually._

"Shall we all make introductions and then you can tell me about them. I mean, I've been wondering what else my father suggested you read in addition to, or instead of what I suggested."

She shrugged, then looked around, "I assume I don't need to introduce your cousin Tonks?"

Draco smirked at her, "Not when she's the only one on the train with pink hair."

Tonks stuck out her tongue with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Quite," said Draco. Which didn't come out seeming to mean what he'd meant it to.

Harriet turned to the mudblood beside Tonks, "And this is Sally-Ann Perks."

Draco made his bow. "These are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle." They bowed, Goyle bowed once, Vincent bowed to each of the girls in turn. That was better than he expected from either of them, at least Goyle hadn't called the mudblood, 'mudblood' to her face.

"Thanks guys," he muttered, "do you mind waiting outside?"

They grunted and stepped out. Draco closed the door.

"That's better," he said, "umm soo … Perks, I don't recognise your name, which line?"

"She's still facing that decision," said Harriet, "if she acknowledges her father, she gets to keep his line, but displeases her mother, if she disavows her father she'd need to find a sponsor, or risk being … whatever that kind of half blood is called."

_Ah, not just permitted but requested to go into lecture mode, alright._ "Actually that was the original meaning of the term mudblood," said Draco, "it only later grew to include the unsponsored muggleborn, partly because if you look too closely at a certain fraction of muggleborns you find the abandoned love children of magicals."

"You two make awfully free discussing other people's ancestry," said Perks.

"Sorry," said Harriet.

_Was she apologising for him? Had he gone too far? He hadn't thought so, but __…_

"I grew up in a zoo," Harriet was continuing, "we always paid attention to breeding. And outside of a potions periodical and a inscription periodical, pedigrees and histories were just about the only up to date literature from the wizarding world we bothered to keep around."

"Oh, Why?" said several voices.

Harriet shrugged, "Mum liked to keep track of her sister's friends, and if they had the sort of career that Aunt Lily predicted for them."

"Oh."

As excuses or changes of subject that was a pretty good one, "Best and worst prediction?" said Draco.

"Best and worst, career, or most and least accurate prediction?" said Harriet.

"I meant most and least accurate," said Draco.

"Least accurate would probably be Alice Longbottom," said Harriet, "most accurate might be Amelia Bones, or Professor Snape."

Draco nodded, "I know the last two, who is Alice Longbottom and what happened to her."

Tonks and Harriet shivered, "Your Aunt Bellatrix happened to her," whispered Harriet.

"And to her husband," Tonks said almost as quietly.

Draco looked at Tonks, "Do we owe anything to them?"

Tonks shrugged, "technically we owe them nothing, in that we can disavow everything Bella did after she married into the House of Le'Strange."

Relief gradually surged through Draco.

"However their only child will be starting school this year or next, I think this year." She looked vaguely in Harriet's direction, "he was born the day before the latest Potter I believe."

Draco sensed that was a preamble and she was hesitant to say her main point. He motioned her on.

"Without acknowledging a debt so to speak, I would prefer to … ease his way as much as is within my power. Not that my power extends much beyond my own house."

Draco nodded, and took that as a rebuke for having offered so much help to Harriet without first talking it over with family. "I'll keep that in mind," said Draco.

"Me too," said Harriet.

"What exactly do you mean," said Perks, "when you say 'your aunt Bellatrix happened to them?"

Thankfully Tonks chose to answer that one, "Aunt Bellatrix was always a little crazy," said Tonks, "and the war provided her an excuse to … get out of the habit of self restraint. The day after the war ended, no well I guess it didn't end completely that day, but … the day after Ha— Halloween, Bella went to the Longbottom's house and tortured Lord and Alice Longbottom into insanity, they are still in St. Mungo's permanent spell damage ward. They locked her up in Azkaban of course. Which I think I mentioned earlier."

"And you feel guilty?" said Perks.

"Not exactly," said Draco, "I was less than two at the time."

"Let me get this straight," said Perks, "you had nothing to do with it, but because you're related you feel responsible?"

"It's a layer or two removed from 'responsible'," said Tonks, "I feel loyal to my family, which _ought _to include the House of Black, I feel that it is obvious, (if only in hindsight) that the House of Black should have kept a tighter leash on Aunt Bellatrix. I cannot speak for the House of Black, partly because I'm not the head of house, partly because Mum was disowned when she married my Dad. But without saying a word I can condemn their actions by doing what's right today, or even work toward correcting their wrongs, which might chance to include being neighbourly to a young first year if we happen to cross paths."

"Having a house to look out for sounds like a lot of trouble," said Perks.

"Do you have something better to be doing?" said Tonks.

"It's not just looking out for them," said Draco, "it's also them looking out for you."

Perks looked unsure.

"Umm," said Harriet, "you said you haven't had any siblings?"

Perks nodded, confused at the question.

"I have three. How many cousins?" said Harriet.

"Two, what do they have to do with anything?"

"I have 12 first cousins, and about three times as many second cousins. That's just on my father's side, On my mother's side I have Professor Snape and Heir Potter, and through them, sort of, the House of Black."

"And you have Potter's client houses," said Draco, "But what's your point about your cousins?"

"Umm," said Harriet, "what I'm trying to say is, there are advantages to big families, but if you've never experienced them they are hard to explain."

"Like what?" said Draco.

"Yeah," said Perks, "at least _try_ to explain."

"Alright," said Harriet slowly, "you can't all be good at everything, but you can all be good at something, when you need help with something you've never taken time to master, there's always someone there who is better at a particular thing than you. And if there's always someone nearby who can run for an adult if none of you can handle it. I guess that means there's always someone to tell on you, but it also means at least one of them saw it your way as well and hopefully can explain your side of it at least as well as you can."

"I've had some pretty good friends at school," said Perks, "maybe not quite like that, and not quite that many, but I know what friends are."

"Don't worry," said Tonks, "you'll get to experience it at Hogwarts, your dorm mates will be your family while you're there."

"Oh really!" said Harriet, looking excited and relieved.

Looking the most excited he'd ever seen her.

He hadn't really thought about what it must be like for her to be leaving behind a family like that. Draco was leaving his family behind, of course, but his Dad was chairmen of the board of governors, and could be called upon in an emergency. Tonks was here too, even if he'd only met her twice before now. And his friend Blaise. And his two minions. And his acquaintances Ted and —

But Harriet had only him and Tonks, and whoever those two Indians twins were. And here was Perks who didn't have _any _family at Hogwarts. Unless she had half siblings that she didn't know about, who might be worse than useless, if they knew who she was and wouldn't have anything to do with her because her mum was stubborn. Or because their mum was stubborn. Then again, it depended on what sort of lovechild she was, perhaps half siblings wouldn't start showing up for a year or two.

"Perks," he said, "You might be the bravest person I know."

Perks stared at him like he'd just spoken out of turn. So was Tonks.

"I apologise for interrupting," he said, "I got lost in thought."

"That comes from not spending enough time there to know your way around," said Tonks.

Draco stuck his tongue out at her. An action he rarely showed anyone, but she'd done it earlier, perhaps it wasn't just an insult, but could also be a different sort of friendship, like being on a first name basis, only different.

Someone banged on the door, Draco bounced up and slid it open far enough to listen to Crabbe's report. "Little squirt wants to talk to you. And a food trolley is coming, but it's still about a carriage away."

"Everyone's little compared to you, Crabbe," said Draco, "so that hardly bears mentioning. Just a moment."

"Do any of you want a moment to put your hair up?"

"Huh," said Perks.

"I'm—" started Tonks defiantly then petered out, "Oh, I guess I'm not anymore." She drew her wand and conjured a multicolor scrunchy that fell apart when she tried to stretch it. So she turned it into a ribbon and put her hair up.

"What were you going to say?" said Draco puzzled.

"Outcast and proud of it," whispered Tonks.

"Can I use that line?" said Perks.

"Is it true?" shrugged Tonks, "I had the feeling that your Mother was the one rejecting reconciliation, not the other way around."

Perks shrugged, "what does it have to do with putting your hair up?"

Draco shrugged, "Unmarried ladies wear their hair up in public. To do otherwise is a dead giveaway. Or if properly played, can be a very strong hint that someone has stumbled somewhere private, That's what I assumed when both of you had your hair down, that's why I asked the others to remain outside."

"Thank you," said Tonks.

"A dead giveaway of what?" said Perks

"Being a mudblood or a blood traitor," said Draco, "the first means doesn't know any better, the second means knows better or at least ought to know better yet refuses to be polite."

Perks looked thoughtful, "well I reserve the right to not follow customs that I decide are immoral, but," she shrugged and turned to Tonks, "would you put a ribbon in mine too?"

"Sure," said Tonks, and did.

Draco returned to the door, "Let him in."

Crabbe grunted. Goyle grunted a chuckle.

They parted and Draco opened the door the rest of the way.

The boy looked around and relaxed, but didn't seem to know whether to make his bows to the ladies first, or to Draco since Draco was standing right in the doorway.

"Hello," said Draco, "What is your petition?"

"Umm," said the boy, "My toad is missing."

"Do you have your wand?" said Tonks, "I'll teach you the four-points charm."

"Umm, I'll go get it," said the boy and ran off.

Tonks sighed, "I had another option if he couldn't manage that."

...

"Umm boss?" said Crabbe.

"Yeah."

"Do you mind if we go visit that food trolley instead of waiting around all day?"

"Go ahead," said Draco, "I'll catch up in a minute."

They wandered away toward the head of the train.

"Women, thanks for your patience," said Draco, "I'll be getting out of your way now."

Tonks gave a slow princess wave. Perks smirked and copied it.

Harriet hopped up and hugged him instead.

"Don't tell anyone if you don't want to," said Harriet, "but I sort of consider you my actual cousin instead of my only by cousin's second cousin."

On that proviso Draco returned the embrace, and smiled over her shoulder at Tonks. Tonks made a playfully jealous pout. Draco let go. Harriet let go.

"I'll see you around," said Draco.

"Yep," said Harriet, "Bye,"

Draco backed out and left.

_Let's track down those goons before they eat everything._

...

Aftermaths

"Are you sure he's on the train?" said Tonks.

"I _think _so," said the boy.

"Alright," said Tonks, "the last thing I can think of is the good luck charm, concentrate on wanting to run across the best toad ever and recognising him when you see him."

"Ok," he shut his eyes tight.

She concentrated on him finding a toad that would make him happy, and hit him with the benedictum fortunum cast as strong as she could manage. It _seemed _to stick, but luck was always a tricky business.

**Sorting**

The train ride passed relatively uneventfully. As soon as Parvati detected the appearance of a lack of adult supervision she disappeared to see if she could find anything interesting to do. Which suited Padma fine, she had three more books to get through before classes happened and the professors got around to thinking they had the right to suggest modifications to her reading list.

Several others joined her and pulled out books, but they kept on starting to talk to each other. And eventually she or someone else would suggest that they take their conversation elsewhere. Gradually the compartment filled up with others who preferred reading to talking.

Every now and then Padma would put down her book and take note of the titles of the books being read around her, but mostly she just read.

...

In the afternoon her silent companions left one by one and returning in school robes, Padma hadn't caught consciously caught on to the pattern but made sense of it when one boy asked another when he _usually_ put on his school robes.

"When I get cold," was his reply, "or when I need to visit the washroom anyway."

Well he _was _wearing shorts. And Padma was already cold. She'd subconsciously kicked off her shoes and sat on her feet while she'd been reading.

And she was already distracted from her book. And her next visit to the washroom wasn't too far in the future.

Which all added up to _now_ being the optimal time to change.

_Fine._ She got out her robes and made her way to the washroom. On her way back Parvati passed her in the hall carrying her own robes. "Perfect timing," she smirked.

Padma shrugged, and returned to her book.

...

When the train stopped and they lined up to get off Padma realised that the girl she'd been sitting next to for the last third of the journey was Harriet. It took only a fraction of an effort to keep in step with her so that they ended up in the same boat. Parvati was two boats to the side and chatting a mile a minute with another girl a shade darker and two shades prettier, _what a surprise_.

Padma almost got out her book, but she had the sense of comic timing to realise that this boring boat ride must be intended to stand in for the 'establishing scene' and the sense of prudence not to get out a book when anyone in any of the nearby boats might decide to splash at any moment.

...

The sorting commenced. Padma wasn't sure whether a singing hat should be considered bewildering or creepy, or just poorly planned comedy.

"Have you heard anything more about the houses than what the 'hat' just told us?" Padma whispered to Harriet.

"Only that they sort of 'stand in for family' while we're here."

"Do you think the hat sorts us, or interviews us to see where we want to go?" said Padma, thinking about the charmed quiz sheets that one Harriet's aunts used to give out for home work.

"No idea," said Harriet, "I wouldn't mind being called any of those things, but some of them … I sort of don't want to be around too many other people all acting that way."

"Assuredly," said Padma.

"How about you, where would you expect to be put?"

Padma shrugged.

"Greatest fear?"

Padma shrugged.

"Greatest ambition?"

"Learn the notice-me-not, or something even stronger to keep people from bothering me while I'm reading."

"That doesn't sound like you're going to get into slithering or huff-and-puff."

"I think that was slytherin or hufflepuff," said Padma.

"Maybe, it's hard to hear from back here," said Harriet.

"Or maybe you should have checked your ears for proper classroom performance before you chose them to attend school in."

"I _hope _this doesn't represent the standard noise level in the classes here will be," said Harriet.

One of the boys turned around, "You say that like she's some sort of robot,"

"She is," smirked Padma, "can't you tell?" why couldn't he butt out of conversations he wasn't invited to.

He looked … bemusedly sceptical, "Oh yeah? What kind?"

"Mrs. Potato-head mark two," said Padma, "can't you tell by her accent?"

He looked like sudden exposure to the reality of magic had damaged his sense of common sense too badly to know for sure if she was joking.

"Leave my accent out of this," muttered Harriet, "and my ears."

He suddenly seemed to think of a lot of other reasons that an odd accent and poor functioning ears might go together, and looked irritated at Padma in a different way. Then he turned his back on her.

_Perfect, I think I'm going to be shunned for making fun of 'that poor tone deaf girl with the odd accent.' I wonder if it will last more than a week. I hope so, one down forty-some to go._

"Malfoy, Draco."

The ice blond from the robe shop that Matirni had wrapped around her little finger went forward and sat on the stool.

"Slytherin!"

Padma wondered if his greatest ambition was to impress Matirni, or to get away from her, or merely to see through her. Of course, None of the three were truly possible, but one could convince oneself that one was indifferent, and be one's own agent for weeks on end. That's what Padma generally aimed for.

"Matirni, Harriet."

Harriet walked to the stool and put the hat on.

It took longer than most of the others, but Padma hadn't been paying a huge amount of attention to most of them.

"Slytherin!"

There was an interesting amount of surprised muttering.

Only a small amount of applause from the table she went to, and from the yellow table. Whatever that meant.

The ice blond had gotten a lot more applause, and no one had seemed surprised.

Perhaps Padma should have been able to guess where Harriet would be sorted, probably she did know Harriet well enough, but perhaps it was to be expected that she didn't know the houses well enough yet.

And perhaps the ice blond had Harriet wrapped around _his _finger, and she was putting up with it for the sake of … What? _his _connections?

...

Finally Padma's name was called, and she put the hat on.

And she felt the extra thing-ness in her head, but also the extra space for it to exist in.

If she could figure out how to put it away, having the extra space to think in might be useful.

"Yes, I am a thinking cap, but at the moment the thinking that must be done is which house I should sort you into."

"Given that we're sharing thinking space," thought Padma, "are you sure you're the one doing the sorting?"

"Technically, we're sorting you together. Or perhaps, you're sorting you, and I'm just here to make sure you stay on task."

"Then by all means, explain the task so I can begin, (Otherwise I have some thought experiments I was in the middle of…)"

"(Daydreams by any other name…) well, you heard —"

"You take that back!"

"Hush. Now you heard my song, which attributes do—"

"Too bad it's so dark in here, there was this book I was having trouble understanding and I wonder if having your extra thinking space would make it easier, it feels like it would make it easier to—"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"You don't have to yell, I wish I had a thinking cap of my own, preferably one without all this sorting mechanism in it."

"Well there _is _another in the castle, it's called RAVENCLAW!s diadem, but it's been hidden for several decades."

"Oh, do you know where?"

"We're done sorting you, take me off already!"

"Huh? What."

"I said RAVENCLAW! You RAVENCLAW! Take me off so that the other children can sort themselves."

"Oh."

...

Padma took the hat off, and blinked at the brightness of the light.

She got down off the stool and turned toward the table of children who were half applauding, half motioning her over, and half looking at her with very intrigued expressions on their faces.

"Are you alright?" whispered the 'get off my lawn!' type looking old lady that was running the ceremony. Deputy Headmistress MacGonagall if memory served.

_Someone's hat has an addictive personality,_ thought Padma back, _but I believe I shall recover. _Then remembered that given she wasn't talking to a thinking cap, thinking at the lady didn't count as answering.

She waved away the woman's concerns and put the hat down, and went to sit with her new dorm mates. Surrogate family indeed. She didn't need a surrogate family, she needed someplace quiet to sit down and meditate for several hours. Also someplace private to pull out her journal and begin taking notes. How to make a thinking cap? How to find the Ravenclaw one? How to build it so that her journal and to-do-list were safely inside, and nagging could be turned on or off at need?

...

"Patil, Parvati."

Padma could feel … something when the hat darkened Parvati's eyes or mind or whatever. Actually it felt almost as comforting as when she'd put it on herself. Something to consult with her about later.

"Gryffindor!"

Brave and foolish? That fit. So did trying to impress that Lavender girl. Another case of 'who is influencing who?' perhaps.

...

Finally it as over and after an oddly short speech, dinner was served. Magically.

"Is he off his rocker?" said Michael Corner. Apparently with regards to Dumbledore's 'few words' speech.

"They say he is a bit mad now," said an older pupil, "but he was a great man in his time."

_And Ann would say, "Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go," _thought Padma,but she said nothing aloud.

**Orientation**

"So," finished the prefect, "Any questions?"

All the other first years seemed too cowed to ask anything. That was fine, Harriet didn't mind speaking up. Except she didn't have any questions either. Well she did have one about her hawk. She put her hand up. But she should address it to Professor Snape, and only if she hadn't solved it by tomorrow.

"Yes, Miss Matirni?"

"When do we get our class schedules?"

"Right after this, first years come see me, second years, Miss Childs over there, third and fifth years see Professor Snape, fourth and sixth see Flint, seventh you should have gotten yours in your letter. Next question?"

_Who are my siblings and who are my first cousins and who are my second cousins in this huge surrogate family?_

_Actually probably members of my family, and my sponsor's family, and my sponsor's other client families are my siblings, and everyone else is cousins._

_I should probably clear that with Draco before I start calculating from that, but it feels right._

"Dismissed! First year's to me!" he pulled out a stack of papers… probably parchments actually.

Harriet got hers and returned to her seat, which was now occupied by a boy with warm brown skin. The last one sorted.

"Mr. Zabini," she said and took the seat next to where she'd been before.

He hopped up, "Madam," he looked at her already sitting down and at a seat several chairs away, almost wistfully, just as it and several around it were filled. He sat back down in her previous seat.

They both got comfortable, "Did you really sit in my seat just so you could get up to offer it to me?" Harriet said.

He shrugged and shook his head. "I got turned around trying to find Mr. Malfoy, and sat in what I thought was mine, but I see now that I was off by thirty degrees."

"Ah."

"Umm," he said, "don't take this the wrong way, but there's something familiar about how you smell."

Harriet stared at him, "and there's something familiar about how you look."

He blinked, "alright, we'll each tell and then each explain?"

She shrugged, "that works for me?"

"You smell like … well it's almost like chimera, only very slightly mind you, but enough to make me wonder."

"Oh," she said, "live chimera or dead?"

He shrugged, "I'd have said live but…" he shrugged again, "I'm not sure if I'd recognise how they smell dead, or if it were dead, how I'd differentiate it from anything else dead. Why do you ask?"

"It's my wand," she said, "chimera tail sinew, I'm not supposed to tell, because how expensive it was, but I don't think it's likely for someone to steal a wand, since the point is to have one that likes you."

"They're more likely to steal it to be mean to you, than to steal it to try to sell, I don't think chimera tail sinew that's already been cut that short is useful for anything else."

She nodded.

"Your turn," he said, "Who do I look like?"

"You look Italian or Romanian, in spite of being slightly too dark."

"Perhaps I tan easily."

"Wrong colour brown," she said, "I wondered if you have something more unusual than African or Indian in your heritage."

"Perhaps I do," he said, "You'd have to ask my father about it."

"Oh," she said, "What's he like?"

He looked annoyed like his joke had not made her laugh.

"He died before I was born," he said.

"Oh," she said, "I'm sorry."

He shrugged.

The conversation seemed finished, and had ended very badly, surely there was something she could say that would make it not be over, or not have ended badly. But the first three things that came to mind were relatively tactless. And one might be outright mean, if it were taken wrong. But then he'd been the one to bring it up, almost inviting her say the wrong thing.

"You seem very brave about it," she whispered.

He smirked, "Never mind that," he said, "actually a high percentage of the pupils this year and the last next three or so have lost a parent or a near relation in the war. Most of those arriving next year will be children of survivors, be prepared for 'Harry's and 'Potter's."

"Harry Potter didn't save us, his Mum's family magic was extremely annoyed that Lily died without a female heir."

"Say what?" he said.

"ARG," she said, "That's two things I'm not supposed to have told, did you slip me something or was it in the food, so that we'd make friends quickly tonight by spilling all our secrets?"

He looked startled, "I wouldn't put it past the Headmaster to try something that manipulative, though I'm having trouble believing that he'd have thought of it without the help of someone a little more cunning than he is generally made out to be."

"Hmm," she said, "something to ask my Godfather about. If I can figure out how without admitting why I'm asking."

He smirked, "So how do you know what you said about Lily Potter."

"The fact that explains why I know is public record, what I just said, and the connection between the two are private, and I'd rather them stay that way."

"Are you going to tell me so that I don't go digging and put someone else on the scent?"

Harriet glared at him.

Draco walked up, "Oh good, I don't have to introduce you to each other."

"Actually," said Zabini, "she remembered my name from the sorting and I didn't remember hers, just that it was right after yours."

"Matirni," said Draco, "a client of a client of the Blacks. Favours have been traded such that I'm sort of looking out for her."

"In loco patronus or something?" said Zabini.

Draco flinched almost as much as Harriet.

"Technically, my cousin in Hufflepuff is in line ahead of me for that sort of responsibility."

Zabini shrugged, "alright, whatever."

"I just want to make clear what our relationship is so that no one gets confused," said Draco.

"Oh!" said Zabini in a sing song soto voice, then whispered, "Draco fancies Matirni."

Draco looked bemused, and shook his head, "I've met her _once_ before today. I take my family responsibilities seriously. I'm starting to _not_ take you seriously."

"Good, good, _never _take me seriously," said Zabini, "are you up for some Snap or shall I put myself to sleep some other way."

Draco looked even more bemused, "there is something _wrong_ with you. Also, classes start tomorrow, I'm going to attempt to sleep early, which may be difficult not being in my own bed."

"Didn't you bring a compass?" said Harriet.

"What?" said Draco and Zabini.

"If you turn your bed so it faces the same way as your bed at home, it should feel a lot more like your bed at home. Doesn't everyone know that?"

"Have you seen the beds?" said Zabini, "They don't turn, perhaps if you're lucky enough to draw one facing the correct direction already…"

"Oh dear," said Harriet, "I better go see how bad it is." And she turned toward the door that she'd gathered led toward the girls wing.

"I don't know about yours," said Draco, "But _my_ bed turns."

"Lucky you," said Zabini.

**{End Chapter 6}**


	7. Professors, in their native habitat(s)

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Classes**

Potions class was somehow exactly what Harriet expected, and somewhat disappointing.

Professor Snape had quizzed a few of them before they started, and been pleased with her first several answers, not so much with some of the gryffindors. Finally they started brewing. Which had not lasted long. Neville's cauldron blew up and Draco went to help him even before Professor Snape started to assign someone else. Then he saw the state of Harriet and Draco's potion and told Harriet to go, and for Draco to finish on his own.

...

It took her half way to the infirmary before Harriet realised that meant he knew she could finish the potion and wanted to let Draco have practice too. She really ought to look through the book a third time, and this time make a list of the potions she _didn__'t _have years of practice with, so that she could explain to the Professor why she'd rather if he didn't mess up her chances to practice when those were scheduled.

Yes, that should work, present it as a weakness she intended to remedy rather than a boast, he seemed to respond better that way sometimes.

...

Or he had sent her because he trusted her taking Neville to the infirmary?

"How bad is it?" she whispered.

"Hurts," said Neville, "about like bubotuber pus, only hot, and not feeling like it's spreading deeper."

Harriet shuddered.

They reached the infirmary, and Harriet explained what she knew so that Neville wouldn't have to talk. He seemed like he was having trouble with that.

Then she backed out of the way and watched as the nurse performed several spells with her wand, and then poured two vials of potions into his mouth, and applied a some from a third vial directly on the burn.

Neville seemed to be breathe easier after that.

It was several minutes before the burn started to vanish.

By that time an older pupil came in with some sort of woody leaf stuck through his hand, and trying to wiggle back out. Or deeper in, Harriet couldn't quite tell.

The nurse cut most of the leaf off, both above and below the intersection, and then began tugging. When that availed nothing she started asking what kind of plant it was.

The pupil had already fainted.

"It looks like Begging Astelia," said Neville, "if you feed it butter, or offer it silver, it's supposed to retreat."

"Hmm," said the Nurse and summoned a tiny ugly creature and asked him to fetch her an ounce of butter. It vanished again.

Before it returned the nurse disappeared into her office and reappeared with some money.

It didn't take long for the rest of the 'leaf' to be convinced to come out. It looked more like a twig and several bits of leaf to Harriet.

After the nurse incinerated all the fragments, she cleaned and dressed the wound, all with magic. Then woke the patient, again with magic. And got him to take two potions.

...

After that she returned to Neville, complemented his quick identification of the plant and sent them to the great hall for lunch.

"I must admit," said Harriet as they explored in the direction that the great hall ought to have existed in, "the nurse's magic looked a lot more interesting than potions,"

"Hmm," said Neville, "You, Umm, don't like potions either?"

Harriet shrugged, "I like them just fine, but I can brew at home, I'm not allowed to practice with my wand at home."

"Ah," said Neville, "From what I understand we can practice anything in the classrooms but not in the hall."

"What about outside?"

"If that's the sort of plant they have outside, I'd be careful outside." He said.

"Maybe that's why the forbidden forest is forbidden?" said Harriet.

"I sort of got the idea that the forbidden forest is full of dangerous _animals_."

"Oh," said Harriet, "you know all sorts of useful trivia,"

Neville shrugged, "people talk a lot, if they don't talk to _me_ they forget I'm listening."

"Maybe," said Harriet.

...

Lunch was almost as odd as the feast the previous night. There wasn't as much of it, but some of the dishes seemed showy for no particular purpose, like something the diners would put on for the mundanes. Except more so, vegetables that sparkled, sausages with glowy bits, deserts that were beautifully savoury one bite out of five.

After that came defence against the dark arts. Which seemed to be two hours of possibly useful trivia with no overriding goal or organisation. Harriet hadn't thought anything could be more disorganised than the book they were teaching from, but she was wrong, that lecture felt like someone reading through a address book, except instead of a name and an address and a telephone number, each entry comprised something dangerous, and the top three ways of neutralising the threat, without any discussion of why other seemingly commonsense alternatives _weren__'t _better.

Harriet had no idea how she would memorise any of it, nor how, even if she did, it would be of any help to her if she ever landed in any of the situations mentioned.

On her way out her arm was caught from behind and she spun around. It was only Perks.

"Hiya Perks," Harriet said.

"Hello, Matirni," said Perks.

"What's up?"

"Can we go somewhere private?" muttered Perks.

_I don__'t know if there is anywhere around here like that._

"Umm," said Harriet, "I'm on my way to the washroom?"

Perks nodded and fell in beside her.

As soon as the door closed Perks ducked and glanced under the stalls to verify that they were alone. "I figured out who my half-brother is, and I'm _not_ impressed."

"Oh?"

"And apparently I'm heir of the Hufflepuff line, Or at least that's what the sorting hat said, and the picture over the fireplace calls me granddaughter instead of daughter like she calls all the other girls."

"Huh," said Harriet.

"Zechariah Smith has been gaining a following claiming to be the heir of Hufflepuff. I thought something was off about him even before I figured out that Hufflepuff talks to him differently also."

"Off _how_ exactly?" said Harriet.

"He acts the way your friend Draco acted between class and lunch."

"Hmm," said Harriet.

"I have no idea how to deal with that, I'm not going to be following him around like the others are, he's my little brother for … 'for Merlin's sake' and I refuse. But I don't want them all following _me _around either. And I don't want him to resent me for stealing his group, but… but eventually they're going to figure out that Grandmother acknowledges me and that my birthday is earlier. And I don't want them to figure out about Dad being an idiot."

"I don't know enough about your parents to know exactly how much of an idiot either of them might have been," said Harriet, "but what can you do about any of it?"

Harriet stopped and tried to think, there was _so_ much she didn't know about how status could be projected and calculated around here. "I haven't a clue about that either," said Harriet, "if I was in that situation I'd ask for advice from Tonks, or even Draco."

"I don't want Tonks following me around, and I don't know Draco well enough."

"I think Draco would be more likely to follow you around than Tonks would be."

"Hmm, interesting point," she said, "Tonks could ignore my ancestry, she already proved that on the train. And Draco was creepy in between the times when he figured out how to act from how you and Tonks were acting."

"Yeah," said Harriet, "he thinks I care about magical ancestry because I tend to notice ancestry from facial features, because of the acting and makeup thing that Tonks was worried about."

"And the whole wizarding world cares about magical ancestry?"

Harriet shrugged, "The whole pureblood caste cares about magical ancestry because it is their responsibility to uphold the social order by identifying the muggleborns and making sure that they receive every chance to become integrated into the social order."

"You say that like it's honourable to make converts,"

Harriet shrugged, "imagine if a third of the government was tasked with just naturalisation. But anyway, I get the feeling that a lot of it tones down after the first year or two of being integrated, and then it's just a safety net for four generations, by which time you should have a safety net by your own family ties instead of by the family ties of your sponsor's house."

"You're thinking that this is just … what the wizarding world does instead of education and welfare taxes?"

"That's what it looks like to me, so claim muggleborn status to get the goodies, or claim your ancestry to get to call yourself one of the six oldest families in the kingdom, but it comes at the price of always looking for muggleborns to take care of."

"Oh, dear," said Perks, "Oh dear-oh dear-oh dear!"

"Yeah," said Harriet, "My sponsor's line is like a third as old as your line, but I'm not allowed to mention it, I'm only allowed to say that the House of Black is mentoring me for them."

"That's pretty crazy too," said Perks, "now I'm even less sure where to start."

"Start with a Smith genealogy, and a letter to your Mum," said Harriet, "figure out for sure whether this Smith kid is your half-brother or a cousin or something, and anything else you can use to prove whether you or Smith are the rightful heir of Hufflepuff, and you might check for a difference in magical heritage compared to just family legitimacy or whatever, sometimes they differ. By 'magical heritage' I mean you might have a bit of extra talent because of who your parents were, and even how many children they might have had, or not had before you. By mundane heritage I mean things like who you stand to inherit from and who you'll be expected to take care of despite having never met."

"Actually," said Perks, "he is saying that the hat told him, which is odd because the hat told me too."

"And you don't think it was speaking metaphorically?" said Harriet, "trying to convince you to accept the house that it already picked out for you?"

"No, it said I wouldn't be happy anywhere else, and it showed me … umm, no offence but do you _like_ being in slytherin?"

Harriet shrugged, it was cold, and the people were cold, but they studied and they _helped _you study, and expected that you'd be studying, because this is a school and that is why you'd be here, is to study, to get ahead in your career later. Unless your career was politics or upper management, in which case you were going to also be making acquaintances, and making your acquaintances into allies and perhaps your allies into friends. Perhaps Harriet should be doing some of that too, she might not need anything beyond a good education here to become an extremely valued member of the circus, but perhaps there would also the opportunity later to make the circus a valued institution to the wizarding world.

"Earth to Harriet, Hello Harriet."

"Sorry," said Harriet.

"Where did you go?"

"Home and into the deep future?"

"Anything interesting?" said Perks

"Does the term 'ambitious, yet without an ambition,' mean anything to you?"

"No,"

"Well never mind. Yes, I like it in slytherin, but I don't know many people at home who'd be happy there, except perhaps my Mum."

"Ah,"

"And perhaps only for short periods of time, in other words, ask me again in three months?"

"Alright," said Perks, "you think the hat might have been speaking to him metaphorically,"

"Maybe, maybe not, but… some of the things the hat said to me were very … nuanced, it might have meant both of you that you were descended from Hufflepuff without telling either of you that you were the one and only heir, or whatever. You have to be careful what people say, the more _accurate_ they are trying to be, the more you have to pay attention to _every single word_ they say."

"Oh," said Perks, "Yeah, alright, And … I guess I'll do independent research to figure out if the hat knew what it was talking about."

"Also read Family First, and Magic Follows," said Harriet, "And a good etiquette book. If you decide to start acting from your status as pureblood, you're going to want to not be getting yourself in trouble and outcast from all society instead of just your family. I mean, mudblood means ignorant, blood traitor means either wilfully ignorant, or selfish and shirking one's obligations to society."

"Ew," said Perks.

"Exactly," said Harriet.

**Brooms**

Charms the next day was awesome, even if there was quite a bit of theory in between the many demonstrations and the small amount of actual practical. Then came History of Magic, for the first half hour Harriet paid attention, because it was taught by a ghost, not that she paid attention to what he said, just to him saying it.

When she realised the difference she looked down and pulled out a notebook, but she had no idea where to start taking notes. When she looked around to see who she might be able to copy from later she noticed that all the gryffindors were nodding off, and all the hufflepuffs were already asleep. And all the ravenclaws weren't taking notes, they were reading. Some from the history text, some from other textbooks, and Padma from a muggle book.

She looked at the teacher. He didn't seem to notice. Even when several hufflepuff boys started waking up and playing gobstones in the aisle he didn't seem to notice.

She'd have to talk to her prefect about how she was expected to behave in history class, or if she even needed to attend.

...

Later, her prefect said that they didn't need to attend, but that being in the library studying was the only other acceptable use of her time. Also that she was expected to pass all her exams in spite of incomprehensible teachers or for that matter bored to death teachers.

The hint was also given that having history right after lunch had the advantage of allowing for a nice nap and a mostly quiet study hall, in which no one would yell at you for napping, and no one would take points off you for collaborating with your study group.

That appeared to be the exact advice that the Hufflepuffs had gotten, and not far off from what the Ravenclaws were doing.

Harriet was glad for a second time she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor, they'd seemed anxious to prove their interest in whatever that battle was. Harriet couldn't fathom what the creatures were that had participated, let alone the abilities and therefore tactics that followed from there.

The question was, would the history book be any better?

...

The next day was better, potions again, and then herbology.

Neville (or his partner, it still hadn't been clear whose mistake had caused the excitement on Monday) refrained from making any explosive mistakes.

Even without Draco for a partner Harriet had managed to finish her potion ahead of most of the class. She really did need to take the job of ingredients gatherer enough times in a row that she would actually figure out the professor's organisational method.

Harriet stayed after class to show Professor Snape her list. He listened intently in spite of his sneer, to her explanation of how she _was _interested in helping potions accident victims find their way to the hospital wing, and _especially _in watching the nurse work. But there were potions in the textbook that she _hadn__'t _had sufficient practice with and she'd appreciate if he neglected to send her away when they were working on those potions.

"Would you also prefer that I assign your detentions, if any, to the hospital wing?" he said.

"I hadn't thought of that," she said, "I hadn't intended to have any detentions."

"I _don__'t _expect you to start," he said, "but there are certain pupils who think that the only good slytherin is a whimpering one, if you run into any I expect you to finish it if you can do so without risk to yourself or your reputation, a state of affairs which may not arise for several years. Otherwise stay out of sight and summon a teacher or a prefect. But if you do get caught, 'doing the right thing,' shall we say, I reserve the right to be lenient, if I see a good method."

"And giving a detention instead of losing house points is an excellent method," smirked Harriet.

His sneer intensified.

...

When they arrived at the greenhouses Neville had been in ecstasy looking around and pointing out most of the plants identifying them and listing their most important uses. It was like the information dump in defence against the dark arts on Monday, except Neville was excited instead of lisping or stuttering, and that his recitals were cut short after only eight minutes by the arrival of Professor Sprout, who ran a tight no nonsense class.

Harriet approved. So, it seemed, did Neville.

...

Then flying lessons, Harriet had looked forward to the possibility of flying together with Hedwig, but before they even really got started Neville broke his wrist.

Harriet almost went after them but Draco caught her shoulder, and whispered, "she said 'stay here,' she meant it, you can tell her that you don't mind being Neville's nursemaid _after _you learn to fly."

"Alright," said Harriet, "and I have no desire to be his nursemaid, just his … crutch and guide while he's too far in shock to see his way to the hospital wing. I know what it's like to be in shock from a bad fall."

"Hmm," he said.

"Also, safety nets are a common sense precaution, I don't see why we're not using them for this, though I suppose it would take a bit of prescience to have figured out where he would have landed."

"Both good points," whispered Draco.

"Umm boss," said Goyle, tugging his sleeve and Draco was gone.

...

Harriet turned back to the group, watching with concealed interest the Gryffindors egging each other on to feats of daring or discouraging each other from breaking Madam Hooch's very clear and precise orders. She set herself the pointless exercise of picking out a trapeze team from among them. The most daring for the jumpers. The most conscientious for the catchers. What about the throwers? Best rhythm? Least sweaty?

A redhead stepped forward and called out, "That's not yours, Malfoy. Give it here!"

The redhead that had been sorted just before Mr. Zabini. Something that sounded uncomfortable but not catching.

"It's not yours either, and I shan't," said Draco. He sounded uncomfortable, but not about to back down.

The crowd was drifting in to look, but not getting too close. The effect was that they were forming into a ring, and Draco didn't look like he wanted any part of the fight that seemed imminent.

The redhead didn't look like he was going to back down for anything simple.

And Draco's eyes darted around, looking for a solution that would keep violence to a minimum.

Zabini was trying to motion Crabbe or Goyle forward to protect their 'boss' but they didn't want any part of the redhead, who was almost as overweight as either of them, but he seemed to be a slightly higher percentage muscle, and if he was brought up by the twins who'd thrown her locker up into the train so easily, those muscles might not be an illusion. More to the point, he might hold his own in a rough and tumble. Harriet had the feeling that Draco wouldn't have fared well, he didn't have any brothers to test himself against, and he'd never seemed to invite physical opposition from any of his male friends, even though several boys in just about every year had started acting out carefully in a way that Harriet had long ago identified as, "little boys hugging their friends without letting on,"

She figured that would go on increasing as they either became homesick, or found an equilibrium they were comfortable with.

But Draco wasn't like that, and he would be in trouble if it came to blows.

Several of the gryffindors seemed as appalled by what they saw coming as she was. But none of them seemed to know how to stop it.

Neither did she. She knew several of her older cousins were trained in how to get the mundanes to stop fighting or quickly convince them to take it away from the more fragile wagons. But she wasn't trained, she probably wouldn't be, not looking intimidating enough or male, nor had she even sneaked under a handy wagon to eavesdrop on a such lessons.

What she _could _reason out was that, stepping in and tell them to 'stop behaving as little boys' would just set them off. No, she had to say something that would appease their honour as well as make them forget the possibility of a need for violence.

"Umm, pardon me, but what _is _the object in question?"

"Mr. Longbottom's remembrall," growled Draco.

Ron looked slightly surprised.

"Are you really both going to blacken each other's eyes over who gets the honour of returning it to him?"

Ron gaped.

"If it comes to that, perhaps," said Draco, "I don't see any reason why it should come to that."

"Neither do I," said Harriet, "especially since I haven't seen reason to believe that either of you are on first name basis with him."

Neither was she, but … well, she _almost _was.

"Oh," said Draco, "I suppose we could agree to appoint the task to someone,"

"Alright, who else is on a first name basis with Neville?" said Harriet she looked around purposely including the entire class, "or is already going by the infirmary after this anyway?"

"I think that's just you," said Zabini. _Excellent, he had seen where she was going, and read between the lines to complete his part of the script._

Draco turned the rest of the way away from the redhead, walked the three steps toward Harriet, reaching into his pocket at the same time. Ron took a step after him, but before he could make up his mind what to do, Draco had dropped a small glass ball into her hand and walked away.

Ron had been closing on them but seemed at a loss. He didn't seem to be in any mood to, as the saying went, 'hit a girl.'

He turned away, toward where Draco had gone back to where Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were huddled.

"Good show, hiding behind your woman, Malfoy!"

_Oh _that _was too much._

Draco stopped and straightened but did not turn around.

"No matter how you choose to calculate ownership, That _lady _is statistically much more likely to belong to my cousin, her sponsor, than to me."

"Quite," said Harriet, "Draco, do you have the requisite information or connections to provide me with the name of this imbecile?"

Draco turned around with his eyebrows in a quirk, "That imbecile has the _amazing good luck _to be my distant cousin, Ronald Bilius Weasley. We're related via the Prewett line, I'll show you a genealogy later."

"_Thank _you," said Harriet, "He does look it I suppose."

Draco turned away.

"_Mr._ Weasley," said Harriet. Ron turned half way back toward her. Harriet continued, "I don't think anyone is hiding behind anyone here, unless it's _you _hiding your desire for a fight behind Neville and his completely understandable inability to keep track of his things immediately after breaking his wrist."

Ron opened his mouth. But Harriet kept on going, "Not that I have anything against displays of physical prowess. I admit I've enjoyed watching various sports or … and even wrestling matches. But if you're going to involve yourself in violence, at least have the decency to pick an opponent with a similar amount of training as yourself."

Ron gritted his teeth for several seconds and then said, "what makes you think I've had any training?"

"I've met two of your brothers," said Harriet, "they don't seem the type to have let you come to school without giving you as much training as they knew how."

He blinked, "They never _called _it that," he said.

"No," Harriet agreed, "I didn't think they would have. I'm somewhat surprised that you didn't figured it out though."

"Stop calling me an idiot!" he said.

"Alright then," Harriet shrugged, "what shall I call you instead?"

He looked thoughtful, then perked up, "The chessmaster,"

Harriet felt her eyebrows climb involuntarily, 'chessmaster' like the Polgár sisters?

"You'll have to prove that too me before I can call you that," said Harriet, "What about in the meantime?"

"Umm," he said.

"How about Ron?" she said.

He smirked and shook his head ruefully, "sure, why not, but only until I beat you."

Harriet shook her head, "until you beat me six games in a row, and first game of the day doesn't count."

He blinked, then grinned, "until I beat you twenty games in a row, and first game of the day _does _count."

She nodded, "and no playing more than an hour and a half at a time."

He looked thoughtful, "Do you anticipate that meaning two games a day or three?"

She shrugged, "probably only two, I'm a little out of practice."

He nodded, "alright, where are we going to play?"

Harriet frowned, "I was about to say common room, but … I think we'd have to get a prefect's permission or something first."

"Probably," he said, "I'll ask Percy, he'd know. Then ask someone else for actual permission."

Harriet quirked an eyebrow. That sounded like he was actually attempting strategic thinking finally, actually so did asking her for twenty games instead of six. She hoped his manners weren't annoying enough that she'd start throwing games to get out of the ordeal earlier than she'd meant to.

"My brother is a prefect this year," he explained.

"How many of those redheads I saw on the platform belong to you?"

He looked puzzled, "depending on what you mean by 'belong' and whether you even saw the correct group of redheads, most of them were my brothers, one was my sister, and two were my parents."

Harriet grinned, and looked around surreptitiously, and leaned in to whisper, "Then you're the only one I've met here with a _proper _sized family."

He goggled at her, "How big is yours?"

"Two siblings so far," she shrugged, "but if most of Da's relations are anything to go by, there will be a minimum of two more before they decide to stop."

He nodded, "alright then," and turned toward the growing hum of conversation of the other pupils. Madam Hooch was returning.

The flying lesson went fairly well after that.

...

They played three chess games on Saturday after lunch, at the gryffindor table and negotiated the time limit to "Only stop a game at _two _hours, but don't start a new game after an hour and a half."

They played their next two games during history class. And another two the next Saturday.

Of the first five games, Harriet won two and fought a third to a draw. He'd been pathetically weak against the Hungarian styles.

At first.

After the second week, she didn't win any. She could see him improving slowly against her playing style, and she could feel herself making fewer and fewer mistakes against his play. But there was little doubt that she'd never beat him unless she could practice against someone even stronger.

Sometimes after he'd beaten her for the requisite length of time he would play Blaise or if he could convince them, Draco or Flint. But mostly only Blaise would consent to play.

Harriet had the feeling Blaise was practising _something_, to spend so much time loosing at chess, but she wasn't sure what, and she had the feeling it might not be chess.

On the other hand he seemed to win one game in five, compared to Harriet's rapidly dropping total of two games in 15.

...

"You'll never catch him that way," said Pansy one day,

"What way?" said Harriet, "catch who?

"Make him come to slytherin table, if he's so interested in improving his game."

"Hmm," said Harriet.

"My sister has all sorts of books on influencing people, you should read them."

"What makes you think that I'd want to?"

"I thought you had some talent at it the first week when you talked Weasley down and made him defend his reputation by playing chess with you," said Pansy, "but you haven't done anything recently that impressed me."

"Pansy, not to let you down or anything, but I don't go through my day looking for ways to impress you."

"I still think you'd like the book," said Pansy, "Do you want me to go borrow it for you?"

"Why don't you borrow it for yourself?" said Tracy, "Harriet, you can study over here if you're having trouble concentrating over there."

"Thanks," said Harriet.

**Interlude**

"Headmaster, I have some news, not sure if it's good or bad, it feels bad I guess, but I think it may help us focus our efforts."

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, CW and HM to the ICW, but more importantly the Headmaster of Hogwarts, sighed, "How bad can it be?"

"Perhaps the worst possible, regarding the last war and the Potter heir."

Dumbledore sat up, "Go on."

"According to the Miss Matirni, her cousin has not yet _faced_ the last dark lord. The man was blasted by the family magic Lily inherited from her maternal line."

"What is that supposed to mean? Her parents were muggles."

"Her parents were squibs from a long line of squibs, they _thought_ they were the most magical form of humans around, until their daughter manifested as a witch. Her mother dabbled in simple potions though she called it essential oils, her father dabbled in, shall we say, modern runes, though he called it self-help and personal management and leadership training."

"I'll take your word for it, those sound like muggle things to me."

"They are _supposed_ to sound like muggle things so that muggles will buy them without feeling frivolous," said Snape irritated, "After you refused Petunia Evans a place at Hogwarts she wrote all her living ancestors to find out where they'd acquired training. Then she contacted me and requested I research which of the venues she'd identified would be a best to get training from, or recommend a better situation if I noticed one in my research. As you know she ended up at the Matirni Travelling Circus selling potions, and playing at divination, though I think what she's actually practising is legilimency based emotional therapy or potions based healing, or both."

"Somehow that strikes me as in line with her personality."

"Yes, well," said Snape, "according to Miss Matirni, the family magic only passes via the maternal line, and becomes especially violent when provoked by things like, any of the line being murdered before producing a female heir."

"Perhaps a clever lie to protect herself?"

"Of course it _may_ only be that, but can we afford to not follow up on the implications, if Voldemort died at his own hand so to speak, then he has not faced either the Potter heir or the Longbottom heir. Either Voldemort wasn't the dark lord of the prophecy, or he shall return to die at the hand of … whichever of those children he is to mark as his equal."

"What is your strongest intuition?"

"Perhaps Voldemort wasn't the dark lord of prophecy, but if not the dark lord in question doesn't seem to have been doing much harm in the part of the world I live in, so that possibility doesn't need my worry. If he was, then he isn't dead, and … did you mention once that Abraxes Malfoy reminded you of Voldemort at a young age? Or was it Abraxes or Voldemort that let that titbit slip?"

Dumbledore frowned, "I suppose I can see the resemblance, though I don't think I'd have put it that strongly."

"Well I only met Harry Potter for about six minutes, but he reminded me strongly of Abraxes, in his prime, when I first met him, a decade and a half ago."

"Where was that?"

"On the platform as I left from second year, Lucius had been prefect and taken a special interest in me, so I made a special effort to part on respectfully positive terms, he took the opportunity to introduce me to his father."

"Hmm," said Dumbledore, "what part or parts of your impression of Harry prompts the comparison?"

"His stiff formality, his self-assurance in his aunt's potions lab as much as much as anywhere else, I don't know who's been raising him, I don't think it was Petunia, I can't imagine him acting that way unless he's been raised to believe that he owns that circus, and that Wizarding Britain owes itself to him as death compensation for what his parents managed. His father was arrogant enough to know he was a little lord. His son believes he's the second coming of Arthur or something equally deserving. AND he believes that everyone will try to take it from him unless he can prepare himself to hold onto it from the moment he declares himself."

"Do you think he's dark lord material?"

"Dark or Light, only time will tell, but he thinks England belongs to him, and he's going to take it if he can acquire the means to keep it."

"Do you think he can acquire the means?"

Snape shrugged, "I never acquired the means, though it wasn't precisely what I was looking for."

"Do you think he's looking for it?"

"I think he's looking to protect himself, and by that I mean, with the abandon that Alistor might give to that endeavour."

"Oh dear," said Dumbledore, "At only eleven?"

"If you mean would Alistor consider him cautious enough to deserve to live: no, not yet, I think. Though I'd expect he would take significantly less than the eighteen month average that Alistor believes is standard before new recruits become just paranoid enough to be safe to take outside without a babysitter," said Snape, "By my estimation only once he is confident in his defences will he venture out into the sad world of making enemies or allowing people to take notice of him."

"Then he _is _Tom's equal."

"Then we must at all costs avoid giving him offence or becoming his enemies," said Snape, "If at all possible we should be attempting to influence him toward playing the long game for the benefit of the world, not the short game for his own benefit."

"And how do you propose to do that, when I can't influence him at all?"

"Who says you have no influence?" said Snape, "you have the same influence that the Malfoys and I have, His cousin and I infer, his agent, and perhaps his research assistant: Harriet Matirni."

"And she's already in slytherin."

"It was a calculated move, I don't doubt," said Snape, "she had a choice between following either of her acquaintances from home to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, or her two cousins to Hufflepuff or Slytherin, she chose Draco over Tonks, but between you and me, when they first met, Draco was in a much better position to make a good impression."

Dumbledore hummed and steepled his fingers.

"Also she might have inferred the same as I have, that of those four friends, Draco is the most likely to have shunned her for being in a different house."

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "you would have placed her in hufflepuff? Yet she convinced the hat to put her in slytherin."

"I'm sorry let me be more clear, she is a hufflepuff by nature, and a slytherin by … the habits gained from living in a squib school that must keep itself ever hidden from the eyes of its muggle customers. And I presume now keeping a secret that Harry Potter (the great and terrible!) paid her tuition and is expecting her to do his bidding should he ever feel the need to give her orders."

"And the Malfoys?"

"Were merely doing the proper pureblood thing of cataloguing muggleborns for conversion. Draco noticed her and tried to verify that another pureblood had gotten to her first, she said 'yes' but complained he hadn't been very informative, so they convinced her to read their tracts and send them to Potter as well."

"And did she?"

"Given that since she's come here I see her curtsying instead of shaking hands, and keeping her hair tied back as severely as MacGonagall, I'm surprised you can ask that."

"How far lost is she?"

"I've heard her use the term mudblood as a descriptive, but never as a pejorative."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the difference you're highlighting,"

"It's the difference between calling someone a savage to mean ignorant and physically active, rather than stupid and violent."

"You're saying that for her it is a logical adjective, not an emotional adjective?"

"Logical category, not an emotional title. Yes, that's what I'm saying. Also I want to point out that she has gone out of her way to befriend at least two pupils that Draco would have called a mudblood and a blood traitor, respectively, a month ago. And since then she's influenced Draco to speak respectfully to both of them."

"Ah, hmm. If Draco looks at the friendship as a chance for mutual research or mutual contact sharing, she may have a chance to influence the Malfoy line as well."

"Perhaps,"

"Do you have a suggestion you're dying to make?"

"There is one other method open to me, though it might close if I attempt too much," said Snape, "Petunia Matirni nee Evans still considers me a friend of the family."

"If you happen to find a pretext for visiting now and then, you might drop hints about wanting to know about Potter and the training he is receiving. You don't even have to imply you care which school it is, just find out reputation attributes, and ought you send him supplemental text in this subject or that, or what teachers are his favourites, the name of a favourite professor or a complaint about particularly dangerous exercises performed in defence might be enough for us to identify the school in question."

"Quite so," said Snape, "how much of a hurry are you to find him?"

Dumbledore waved his hand, "I can try to send him an owl any time I wish, just like anyone else. That's not the question, the question is what and whose influence is he under and do any deficiencies in training need to be supplemented. Or if we happen to have allies in his school, can they be influenced to steer him toward the light if they haven't started already?"

"I understand, is this an 'I thought I'd invite you over during the Christmas Holidays to talk about your daughter, my goddaughter, and her life at school' sort of time frame, or is it more of a 'before third year' or is it, 'almost immediately,' sort of thing?"

"Well," said Dumbledore, "I don't want you to cancel your afternoon classes to break down her door, and it sounds like we're much too late to try to make sure his first impression of the wizarding world is charming and wonderful. Perhaps Christmas is soon enough, though I'd worry less if I knew where he is and who might be influencing him."

"I don't think he'll be easily influenced farther than he wishes to be," said Snape, "But I also would feel safer knowing that he's not going to … Durmstrang, shall we say."

"Durmstrang is a rigorous school," said Dumbledore judiciously, "but you're right, if he's already … cold it would be better if he learned light before he learned dark."

"I think that I was more worried about the mercilessness of their teachers more than the subject matter," said Snape, "Like I said, I believe I would find it difficult to influence him farther than he would wish to be influenced."

**{End Chapter 7}**


	8. Correspondence

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Letter**

Harriet was startled out of her revere when a letter dropped into her eggs, "Oh my," she said and wiped it off to see if it was actually addressed to her. It wasn't. She tucked it quickly into her sleeve.

"So who's writing you?" said Pansy from across the table and two seats down.

"Not to me," said Harriet, "Owls and people have been using me to deliver letters to particularly scary people since before I could read addresses. Is there a sign on my forehead head or my back that says, 'brave enough to deliver bad news, use her, you coward,'?"

Pansy looked, "No there isn't. Since before you could read?"

Harriet nodded.

"Perhaps you used to be so cute, that it was assumed that you wouldn't get blamed for delivering bad news."

Harriet shrugged with a shy smile, "that might be what the people thought, but what's up with the owls?"

"How often does it happen?"

Harriet shrugged, "three times in six months if we restrict it to owls."

"It looked like one of the school owls," said Pansy, "So it may have been local sender."

Harriet felt her eyes widen involuntarily and brought them under control. Harriet looked around to see if anyone was looking at her.

No one was. The only thing suspicious was that Professor Snape was looking at the Ravenclaw table, but that could be anything from being in a conversation with another teacher on that side of him, or any pupil in Ravenclaw … or any other pupil in slytherin for that matter.

Professor Snape was like that, but then she could be also when she thought there was a need.

She let her eyes wander over the room again, and looked down for another bite of eggs. Before she shrugged and looked at Pansy again, "If I wanted to make sure no letters that were trying to come to me actually got to me, is there a charm for that. Or to be more complex, if I don't want any letters except from my mum, is that possible to set up?"

Pansy crossed her eyes, then shrugged, "how should I know, ask a Ravenclaw prefect."

"And more to the point can it be removed again, or can I confront the person whose mail I'm getting the most of and get him to pay me for delivering them."

Pansy grinned, "I'd do _that _in any case," she said then looked thoughtful, "either negotiate for a salary, or charge him ransom for every letter, depending on whether you want him to stop making his mail drop in your eggs, or whether you need the stable income."

"Hmm," said Harriet.

"Remember," Pansy said after a moment, "if they're dropping in your eggs because he doesn't want them either, then you may have to hold it ransom differently, threaten to forward them all to the daily prophet or something."

"Evil," said Harriet, "especially if it's fan mail— Oh wait."

"What?"

"It probably _is _fan mail, and there's not nearly enough of it, which means I might be a step in a long chain of sorters and filterers."

Pansy looked startled.

"Or after I delivered the first one, I might be some smart ass's shortcut around said fan-mail filtering system."

"Who?" said Pansy.

"No, I won't deliver your fan mail too, don't even think about it."

"Fine but who?" said Pansy.

"I'm afraid we're not good enough friends yet," Harriet said.

Pansy opened her mouth to retort, or to offer to share a secret in payment, then she remembered where they were and thought the better of it.

So perhaps it had been the right thing to say. Or the wrong thing, depending on whether she really wanted Pansy to be her friend.

Harriet suppressed a sigh, if she didn't miss her guess Pansy would be hounding her for a week. Or until she admitted who.

Maybe if Pansy proposed finding a warded room and a promise of secrecy?

...

"Greetings Harry,

"I was surprised to hear that you'd decided that not to attend Hogwarts, the best school of magic in Europe, perhaps the world. Even more surprised when I was informed that your reasoning was mainly with regards to your safety. I was surprised, not because safety is not a concern to me, but because safety is _always_ a concern and I'm pleased to note that Hogwarts has by far the superior reputation in pupil safety throughout the world. We have lost only one pupil in the last century.

"The other reason I was surprised is that it is so rare to find a pupil taking such an _active _and above all _prudent _interest in their safety. So let me first commend you for your intention of prudence even if I reserve judgement on your choice to go to a less prestigious school.

"Second, I want to assure you that I do understand your strategy for seeking safety through anonymity, it is often a well advised tool for those with a historic reputation such as you and I find ourselves burdened with.

"My teachers inform me that your cousin is nearly as bright as your Mother, her aunt. Which leads me to hope that her talents were passed on to you as well. Harriet has mentioned sharing books to you from time to time. Yet, she has never mentioned you offering any in return, this causes me to wonder if your school or money situation is precluding you from getting access to all the books you need for your studies. If so, I'd be interested in assisting you in anyway I am able. Which might not be only books. While I don't believe I have as many contacts on the continent as your family, perhaps you'd like to let me know if there are strings I could pull to smooth your way.

"In the same vein, it comes to my mind, that you might be interested in some self-defence training during your summer holidays, my friend Lambert Stuttgart is a renown sword-master. The charms teacher here at Hogwarts is was a world-class duellist. And Alistor Moody has recently retired from active duty as an auror. If you'd like a letter of introduction, just say the word."

"Or perhaps there are other things that you're interested in or that you'd like help with, just let me know. I may be able to help or I may be able to put you into contact with someone who can."

"Regards,

"~Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

...

"Dear God," whispered Harriet, "How smarmy." But mail duty was a responsibility that she'd never shirked, and wasn't about to start now. So she wrote her own letter to Harry Potter and enclosed the headmaster's. Hedwig refused to deliver it, so she wrote an additional letter to her mother and enclosed the first two in it. Hedwig glared her annoyance and carried it away at once.

Almost at once she received a reply,

...

"Cousin Harriet,

"I'm not clear whether this letter was opened by your mother or by you. If by you, good job: I authorised you to be my 'agent' so I want you on the same page, or just take care of business and informing me of anything that you won't be able to handle in my place. (nothing comes to mind, I have total faith in your abilities or I wouldn't have appointed you.)

"Anyway, I have some ideas what to ask for, but I'd like to hear your suggestions as well before I pen my reply. And feel free to ask for the moon, even if they don't give us what we ask for, I'd not be surprised if asking for at least one insane thing might increase our chances of receiving everything else that we want. "

"~HJPM"

...

Harriet reread the letter twice, and began making out a list:

"Access to the restricted section, perhaps not to borrow or study, but enough for me to understand what branches of magical knowledge even exist. Everything possible on wizarding customs through the ages, and how laws have changed to control them or they were changed to accommodate customs. Everything possible on runes and wards. Everything possible on musical and emotional components to spells. Everything possible on medicine and surgery, psychology too.

"If at all possible some form of P.E. I'm going crazy here with no exercise except climbing stairs. A proper mundane school would have some sort of sports for everyone. The only school sport I've noticed are quidditch and broom riding, and broom riding is barely strenuous enough to count for anything. I find myself crazed and craving one of the horse trainers to come and order me to come warm up a horse, or walk it cool again. Horse riding is still the best exercise I know of, but perhaps at a school like this with so many 'proper' young lords and ladies I'd have to ride side saddle. I sigh in annoyance.

"Actually any animal husbandry would be nice.

"So would, I'm not even sure what they call it, house keeping or janitorial magic or something. I should figure out what is already available for free without using up some favour points on it or something.

"~HM

She prepended a letter stating that it was her thoughts so far and sent it off. Then she made a few discrete inquiries before stealing off one lazy afternoon to go and find the janitor's office.

...

"Excuse me," she said, "Are you Mr. Argus Filch?"

"Yeah," he said, "what's it to you?"

"And you are the caretaker here?"

"I am."

"Can you teach me j— cleaning magic?"

"That depends," he said, "What's in it for me?"

Suddenly everything about the conversation so far snapped into focus, and she backed up a step and noticed her arms cross protectively over her stomach. But that was silly, he hadn't made any move.

"Are … are you too busy to talk right now, I could come back later…"

He blinked, "Of course I'm busy," he said, "stand still and let me tell you why."

"Huh? Oh, ok."

"Only a few charms are needed to clean up most magically inert substances, but there are a few magically attuned substances that can only be cleaned up manually. And there are others that can only be rendered inert and safe or even possible to remove by some very strong potions. Most of those neutralising potions can react as violently to almost all charms, as the ingredients that they clean up react to the cleaning charms."

"Oh," said Harriet.

"That is why no magic is permitted in the hallways. While I generally mop the upper hallways with soap and water, and only have to use the harsh potions on the floors in the dungeons, especially outside the potions classroom. Everyone would _much _rather deal with dirty mop water than cleaning spells backfiring because some young scamp tracks scroot manure across the hall and up the stairs. Or vulkpod sap in from the grounds."

"Oh," said Harriet.

"But," he said, "sometimes I find I need the harsh potions on the upper floors too. The teachers are responsible for cleaning their own class rooms to their tastes and according to what complications are likely to arise, but I take care of the halls, and I had enough cleaning up from enough walls of flame walking down the halls. Magic is not permitted in the hallways. For good reason, and that includes for me. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"What?" he said.

"Yes, I understand," she said.

"Good," he said, "now, are you wanting a book on household cleaning charms, or on industrial standard cleaning potions?"

"Umm," she said hesitantly, "Both?"

He blinked, then grinned, "Alright, just a second, and he turned to a book case covered in dust and pulled out a slim volume, "Davis Chemical, quarterly catalogue and magazine, the winter edition always has a complete listing of current safety warnings and best use practices."

"Alright, umm a magazine?"

He blinked at her, "keep it," he said, "I already know how to use their products, and anyway they'll be sending me the new edition in a couple months."

"Alright," said Harriet, "Thank you, Mr. Filch."

"Now then, I've heard that THE book for cleaning charms is 'Godliness, Purity, and Spring Cleaning: Three Most Practical Impossibilities,' by Mr. Ennui March. It's in the library."

Harriet pulled out a pen and then realised that she hadn't brought any paper with her.

He saw her difficulty at once, "Here," he said and pulled out his own pen and wrote it in the back cover of the magazine.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem," he said, "Now scram,"

"Yes, Mr. Filch." She ran all the way to the common room.

As she stood in front of the door and tried to catch her breath enough to be able to enunciate the password she realised, perhaps he _had _warmed to her by the end of the conversation. She went to her normal seat in the common room and resolved to study the magazine until someone appeared who'd let her tag along to the library.

Professor Snape's warning had come none too soon. The halls were a dangerous place for little slytherins.

...

"Matirni, What are you _reading_?" said Daphne.

"One of Mr. Filch's magazines," said Matirni absently.

Tracy giggled.

Tracy didn't stop giggling.

Harriet looked up, "Is something _unusually_ funny?"

"Why are you reading, 'one of Mr. Filch's magazines?' this afternoon?"

"Because I thought it sounded better than Ennui," said Matirni.

"I'm sure it is," said Daphne, "what do you think?"

Tracy sobered, mostly, and shrugged, "Ennui at least talks about charms and philosophy, and ethics, Dad only talks about mop sizes and buckets and safe work practices."

"I think there is an inferential gap one of us is not bridging," said Daphne.

Harriet flipped back to the "letter from the president" inside the front cover and accompanying photo inside the front cover, "Oh, This is your grandfather?"

"He is," confirmed Tracy.

"Alright," said Daphne, "Who is Ennui?"

"Ennui March," said Tracy, "is an annoying man who keeps trying to court my Aunt."

Harriet burst into giggles.

"He also wrote a book that is one part spring cleaning schedule with step by step instructions for most of the charms one might need, one part devotional, and one part a political treatise comparing the effectiveness of vice laws to blue laws at suppressing non-violent crime," continued Tracy.

Daphne shrugged and wandered on. Tracy looked between the two of them, then sat down next to Harriet's right just long enough to peek inside the back cover, before getting up and wandering after her friend.

Harriet flipped to the back cover to find out what Tracy had wanted to see. A comic about the trouble one runs into delivering dangerous chemicals by sleigh, and a cheerful admonition to buy your supplies before the snow sets in.

_A grand idea,_ Harriet thought, _except that the snow was already flurrying and Mr. Filch said he hadn't received his seasonal catalogue yet._

...

The next day at breakfast Tracy sat next to her, "So how did you find Mr. March?"

"Interesting," said Harriet, "I'm not sure how … practical his charms are, but most of it was interesting."

"Hmm," said Tracy, "Whatever possessed you to read it, and what have you been reading all your life for you to be able to find that interesting?"

Harriet shrugged, "Mr. Filch thought it would be the best for me to read."

"I'm not sure if you realise, but your precious Mr. Filch is a squib," said Daphne.

"So?" said Harriet, "My brothers are also, squib just means you can't use a wand. They can do most of the other kinds of magic. And they can see outside themselves because they aren't blinded by the light of their own magical core."

"Huh?" said Tracy.

"That's an interesting theory," said Daphne, "And plausible even, but what I'm getting at is that Filch has never learned a charm and so doesn't know what constitutes a good text book on charms regardless of his knowledge on other things."

"Umm," said Tracy, "What have you been reading all your life that March is interesting by comparison?"

"What have you been reading all your life that he isn't?" said Harriet then blinked, "your family runs Davis Chemical?"

"And Davis Pharmaceutical, and Davis Imports and Transmittal, and several of the other little spin offs."

"Ah," said Harriet, "so anything remotely serious or business related is probably boring as hell."

"Well yeah," said Tracy dropping her voice to a whisper, "And I have to look forward running most of it, or appointing people to run most of it, more likely."

Harriet wouldn't have been able to hear her over the crowd, had not they been facing each other, and Tracy had enunciated carefully enough that Harriet could read her lips.

"I, on the other hand," said Harriet, "have read and performed most of Shakespeare, and most every version of Punch and Judy, and a great deal of other things, a little serious reading material, especially _logical_ reading material with a _practical _purpose behind it is a nice change."

"Makes sense," said Daphne, "But why are you worrying about household magic instead of more important things."

"I hardly see how spending two or three evenings will harm my progress in the rest of my studies," said Harriet.

Daphne shrugged, "What _are _you planning to do when you leave Hogwarts?" she said.

Harriet shrugged, she could go back to the family circus, she could already see herself selling warded jewellery, amulets they were called if memory served. Diaries that were warded with repulsion charms or … "there will likely always a place for me at home," she said, "But, actually I was wondering about becoming a healer or… or a lawyer."

"Well either of those will definitely provide you with plenty of opportunity to read very serious subject matter," said Daphne.

Harriet couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic, "What about you?"

"She's going to be a coroner," said Tracy, smirking at Daphne.

Daphne stuck her tongue out at Tracy.

Tracy turned to Harriet, "she'll be Greengrass of Greengrass, as soon as she's of age and her Grandfather kicks it."

"Must you be so irreverent?" said Daphne.

"As a daughter of both Capitol and Labour, yes I must, your grandfather is merely aristocracy."

Daphne shook her head then turned to Harriet, "You see what must be put up with when one does not pick one's client families with enough care."

Harriet shrugged, "Do—"

"Don't say that like you don't love me," pouted Tracy.

"Quiet, Matirni was going to say something," said Daphne.

Matirni shrugged, "I was just thinking aloud, never mind."

Daphne raised an eyebrow.

"Actually," said Harriet, "I do have a question, and it's for both of you, suppose your most powerful grandfather, or uncle or whichever relative, offered you books or training to learn anything you wanted, what would you ask for?"

"Horseback riding," said Tracy wistfully, as if she didn't know the first thing about the brutes.

"Sailing," said Daphne, "Or are you asking … umm what every right minded greedy child should ask for first in order to get a yes on the second try when she tones her request to something more reasonable?"

"That," said Matirni, "Exactly that."

"Alchemy," said Tracy.

"I was going to suggest, blood thralls," said Daphne, "But Alchemy is a good choice. I'm surprised you didn't say that thing that love potions are supposedly a degenerate cousin of."

Tracy shrugged, "So I've grown up and given up faith in fairy land."

"Elves are real," said Daphne, "but that doesn't …"

They both stopped and turned to Harriet, "you want to ask for a house elf, if you don't have one already."

"What's a house elf?"

Daphne blinked.

"I'm not sure that will work," said Tracy, "if it was supposed to be a book or training regimen, what can she ask for that would translate into a need for a house elf."

"Never mind," said Daphne, "if she gets a house elf too young it will be instructed so thoroughly in what it is and isn't allowed to do on her command that there's no point."

"Right," said Tracy, "and by the time she could make best use of it, she ought to be able to buy and bond her own."

"She might be able to already," said Daphne, "did you say you're the head of a new line?"

Harriet shrugged, "Is that the new nice way of saying muggleborn?"

"It's the old and accepted way of saying it," said Daphne.

"According to wizarding law and custom, yes, both my parents are squibs living outside of Britain's wizarding world," said Harriet, "according to my family magic. I've inherited two lines from three parents."

"Illegitimacy causing things to act weird?" said Tracy.

"No, my aunt died before she could produce a female heir, so I can trace access to Mum's family magic twice."

"What does that mean in practice?" said Daphne

Harriet shrugged, "Given that my mum's and da's and aunt's specialities were all potions, I expect it just explains why half the adults in my extended family all thought I was the most talented potions pupil they ever had."

"But they were all squibs?" said Daphne

"Most of them," said Harriet.

"So what they call talented …" said Tracy.

Harriet looked at Tracy and thought about the catalogue she'd just read, and how much wealth and experience it might represent. She might be talented, or she might have just had access to books and training early, and Tracy might be the best contact for getting access to more recipes than anyone else outside of Professor Snape, and he'd be hard to ask sometimes. It wouldn't do to alienate Tracy. So she shrugged, "so I might just be average around here, and anyway, there are geniuses and there are early bloomers, and there's no reason yet to expect that I'm a genius, even if I _did _take to potions a bit early."

Tracy nodded.

Daphne looked thoughtful.

...

She wrote up her report and sent it to her mother, and after two days received two letters in reply:

The one purported to be from Harry Potter, but seemed to be in her father's hand. And another from her mother.

...

"Dear Sir,

"Thanks for your concern for my well-being and for my study supplies, at the moment I have plenty to keep me busy, my defence teacher suggests that the only thing sword work is good for is exercise to build core strength, which is better built by horse riding anyway.

"I am interested in the suggestion of duelling, if you are speaking of wand duelling. I wasn't clear what you were suggesting Alistor Moody would be willing to teach. I would like to have at least two weeks, but preferably three weeks at home before starting any sort of summer classes. I'm not sure when my term finishes, or whether it coincides with that of your school.

"It occurs to me that given how much there is that I don't know, it might be advantageous to study something introductory on what forms of magic are even possible and what forms are most necessary to be aware of in order to maintain the level of alertness that is necessary for proper situational awareness and self defence, and also those forms of magic that are most appropriate for defending against those threats."

"The other possibility that comes to mind comes from a rumour that I've heard: that the Hogwarts library has one of the best collections in western Europe and the only near its size owned by a publicly held institution. But that most of it is not available to pupils until they are of age, which for the average British pupil means the age of seventeen. I want to make it clear that our family treats all offspring as ready for adult responsibilities from the age of twelve, and we have _quite _the ceremony at that time.

"I _already_ have complete confidence in the judgement of my cousin Harriet, and I trust her implicitly, otherwise I would not have chosen her to be my agent in Great Britain. I want to assure you that as her Lord and Sponsor I am ready to vouch for her and her actions, and you have nothing to fear from my house and person, and only my respect to gain, were you to permit her normal and adult level access to the library there.

"On that note, if there are materials either cultural or legal that she should study in order to better fulfil her role as my agent, I would appreciate it if you would bring them to her attention.

"Thank you again for your time and consideration,

"~Harry J. Potter

...

And from her mother:

...

"Dear Harriet,

"It's good to hear from you again. Harry says to pass on his apologies for not mentioning to you how to contact him earlier, you did well and should continue to use this method for now.

"We're proud of the progress you're making. Sorry to hear about the lack of good physical training. Perhaps there is something else to ride even if horses aren't regularly made available.

"How is your godfather? How are your classes coming? Have you made any friends yet?"

"Love you,

"Mum and Dad.

And two signatures.

...

Harriet quickly penned a reply.

"Dear Mum and Da,

"Professor Snape is a strict teacher but we like him. I'm learning lots from all my books, I can't say as much for the lectures in a few of the classes. I've seen unicorns around but not from up close, they tend to stick close to the forest, I haven't heard of anyone riding them, but I haven't asked yet. I've made several acquaintances I'm not sure if I'd call any of them friends yet. I have also met several of Harry's relatives, and they've taken me under their wing for his sake. Do you know if Aunt Lily had any other friends here that I should contact on her behalf, or even favours she might have owed, or anything like that?"

"Love you too,

"~Harriet Matirni.

...

As she looked up from sending Hedwig off, Pansy cleared her throat, "good news then?"

Harriet shrugged, "I had to make a judgement call and Mum says it was the right one. Anyway do you know the appropriate way to ask for an appointment with the Headmaster?"

"You _want _an appointment with the headmaster?" said Pansy, "He's rude like a muggle they say, and impatient like a hero, and stupid like … like a gryffindor."

"I believe he _was _a gryffindor," said a voice from several seats away.

"Mail owl duties again," muttered Harriet.

"Why not just make your hawk take the message?" said Pansy.

"Because for some reason when I try to shirk like that the owls won't cooperate."

"Oh," said Pansy, "That must be annoying."

"Quite," Harriet nodded and went back to her breakfast.

...

In the end she asked Professor Snape if he could get her an audience with the Headmaster, he wanted to know why, and after glancing over the never sealed letter, he took her in hand and led her upstairs and around to an vacant looking hall with two stone gargoyles.

Harriet didn't notice herself hanging back until her head of house pulled her forward. "What's the problem?" he said.

"I'm used to Gargoyles meaning churches, and churches meaning uptight mundanes, and …"

"And squibs have much more to fear from 'witch hunts' than witches do," said Snape, "I understand completely, but many gargoyles are statues of real magical creatures. And generally given abilities that are reflected by the type of creature chosen. Those used to protect churches are generally the scaled aquatic cats, able to protect from water and confer their protections on the roof and walls of the buildings. These are chimera able to intimidate, guard, and change shape.

She looked at them with interest, she'd looked up chimeras shortly after she'd arrived, because her wand had made her curious, but none of the line art in the texts she'd found had shown anywhere near as much detail as these statues had.

He led her closer then leaned forward and whispered to them, they moved in a stretching, slithering, flowing, sort of way. That almost certainly had more to do with being made of rock rather than how real chimeras should move.

Snape led her between them and into a spiral staircase, that seemed to be some sort of demented escalator.

"Enter," said a muffled voice just before they reached the landing.

The door swung open before they could cross the landing, and they stood inside the most cluttered and distracting office that Harriet had ever seen.

It was very obvious to her that this office never moved, because if it had all the untidy things would have shifted around and ended up on the floor.

"My dears," said the headmaster, "What can I do for you this fine October afternoon?"

"Harriet Matirni received a reply to the letter you sent to Harry Potter, she wished to deliver it. I am merely here to open the way, and perhaps to serve as chaperone, if she wishes it."

They both glanced at her, she shrugged then frowned, "I believe it would be appropriate for the first meeting, at the very least. If you don't mind."

"I do mind," smirked Snape, "but it falls under the duties of a Godfather, and of in Loco Parentus, et cetera, so I shall remain."

"Thank you, Professor." She said and turned to the Headmaster, and held out the letter.

"This isn't sealed," he said.

"I don't believe it ever was," said Harriet, "which I presume means that my parents have seen it, too. Mum's letter in which it was contained, sort of implied that she had read it, or had been informed what it contained."

The Headmaster nodded absently but he was busy reading. At length he looked up, when do you turn twelve?"

"The thirtieth of October,"

The headmaster twinkled, "Were you expecting a ceremony of some kind?"

"I sort of expected it to be held over Winter Holidays," she replied, "You don't need to worry about it."

"Alright," he said easily, "Are you aware of why he didn't send this to me directly?"

"Not precisely," said Harriet, "I think it was meant to underline the fact that he's fixed it so that his mail gets delivered to me, and he expects me to read and reply to most of it."

The headmaster looked startled, "He did what?"

Harriet shrugged, "he did it ages ago, anyway, there hasn't been as much of it as I expected, so I'm guessing he has someone else sorting most of his fan mail already."

"Actually," said the Headmaster, "I did that before I had him placed with your family."

Harriet blinked, "You knew?" she said, "Huh, alright never mind, so how _is_ his fan mail being handled?"

"In a stasis room near the owlry," he said, "A team of solicitors, well I'm fairly sure it's mostly interns, but the point is, they come in once a month, test and eat most of the sweets, test and repackage the toys for orphanages across the country, answer most of the letters with polite refusals, deposit money and everything irreplaceable in the Potter vaults, and sell everything easily replaceable at market value so that can be deposited too. And finally offers of a similar nature are suggested to be donated directly rather than putting the letter answering team through the trouble of testing them and sending them off to be donated or auctioned off."

Harriet closed her mouth, "you keep saying 'testing' them, what are the things tested for?"

"Charms, compulsion charms especially, dangerous ingredients, love potions, there have been any number of odd and potentially deadly things turn up," said Dumbledore, "I am both relieved that someone besides me had the same thought, but somewhat disturbed that they were able to layer it on top of mine without breaking both enchantments, still more so that they chose you for the task."

Harriet shrugged, "Asking me to deliver mail was somewhat of a tradition before I was picked to collect and deliver his mail, the only thing different is that I was ordered to read his before deciding whether to pass it along or throw it away."

He nodded, "I didn't mean you weren't capable of delivering mail or answering fan mail, I meant, I can easily visualise what would have happened if they'd broken my enchantment when they put up theirs, ether Harry or you could have easily received any of the dangerous packages before anyone detected the failure," he waved the letter that Harry seemed to have dictated to Harriet's Da, "I mean he trusts you with his reputation, which is a very fine complement, but that is not the same as conscripting you for a bodyguard, or in this case perhaps 'bomb handler' could have been a better analogy, luckily the enchantments seem not to have interacted and only the letters that I've allowed through my enchantment have ended up with you."

Harriet nodded, "so somehow, one or the other of us has been very lucky, or whoever set up the second ward was alert to the existence of the first? "

The headmaster raised an eyebrow, "you believe that someone was alert to my enchantment?"

Harriet shrugged, "squibs regularly are much more alert to the magic around them than I am. If I ever mention the fact they seem to think it hilariously obvious that I'd be blind to magic, given how blindingly obvious my presence is to them. 'It is not the fault of a fire that it is blinded by its own light,' were my mother's exact words I believe."

The headmaster stroked his beard, "I wonder what one would make of a dementor,"

Snape shuddered, "I'm not certain the experiment could be conducted ethically."

The headmaster looked up, "No I suppose not, but if they could offer insight adding one to each auror trio when dementors are expected to be among the enemy, or the main enemy of a battle, but never mind that." He picked up the letter again.

"You ride horses?"

"Yes, I'm not as good as Parvati. I dance down hanging ropes, not on horseback. But _riding _horses, I tend to do fairly well and regularly until I came here."

The headmaster nodded, "we haven't taught horse-riding in centuries,"

"Not since broom riding became more popular," said Snape, "it's considered a more dignified and more practical form of transportation, though I imagine it is not nearly as thorough a form of exercise."

The headmaster nodded.

"Are there horses or horse like creatures we could ride to keep in practice?" said Harriet.

"There are unicorns and thestrals," said the headmaster staring off into space, "at certain times of year there are griffins which are not for riding, and hippogriffs which could be if you can establish a rapport,"

"Hmm," said Harriet.

"Out of all of those I'd trust myself to a thestral," said Snape.

"Quite," said the headmaster, "though I wouldn't think she'd be able to see them, nor would I recommend going in the Forbidden Forest to look for them, perhaps something could be arranged with Haggrid."

Snape nodded, "That would seem to be the most sustainable option, and if the question is regular exercise, I believe that is the most plausible option."

"I wonder how many pupils would be interested in a class,"

"Or a club," said Snape, "optional classes traditionally have a different set of requirements than clubs,"

"Quite," said the headmaster looked relieved, "I believe that is the best option, would you like to suggest it to Haggrid or shall I?"

"I believe Harriet should collect names and petition Haggrid, then he can decide if he's interested, and petition you for approval. I'd say let's do everything through proper channels, some of the other requests in that letter are much less simple to arrange, if they are possible at all."

The headmaster looked down at the letter again. "I'll have to look into the rest of this a bit deeper."

"Alright," said Harriet, "thank you."

The headmaster nodded and glanced at the door, it opened.

"Would you mind seeing yourself out? There are some things that I'd like to discuss with your head of house."

"Alright," she said.

...

She went back to her dorm, on her bed she found a book with a short letter in purple and green ink, "Harriet, this book will provide you with an insightful overview of the history of Hogwarts and a synopsis of the very many types of magic that have been taught here over the centuries. A new edition comes out every ten years and this one is somewhat old, so you may wish to purchase your own copy, or simply read it and return it to the library when you're finished. ~Albus"

Needless to say, Harriet did not accomplish anything else that afternoon.

**{End Chapter 8}**


	9. Plans progress

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Club**

The next day when she became restless she remembered that no one was going to take care of her exercise issues but herself. So she planned out an announcement and sign up sheets and what she'd need to get the club running and then re-designed her sign-up sheets. The major difficulty was clipboards, the wizarding world didn't seem to have them and she didn't know who to borrow them from if they did. She tried to transfigure something but couldn't get the wood to not split or the metal to stay attached properly. She went to Tonks who went over the design with her several times before attempting it, and several other designs that she seemed to think would be easier to make.

The end result was a clipboard that was only spring-loaded when you pushed a little lever up a ramp and only let go when you slid it back down. Almost like a window lock.

"Thanks," said Harriet, "Can you make eight more?"

"Perhaps," said Tonks, "are you going to tell me what you need them for?"

"Horse riding club," said Harriet, "do you want to ask the Hufflepuffs? Otherwise I was going to ask Sally-Ann."

"You're going to open it to all houses?"

"I was planning on it," said Harriet, "And make it clear that the girls will be trained to ride both ways, or at least will have the option of learning and practising both styles, a quarter of our millionaires and at least a third of the fighters in the last war were women, there is no reason why we shouldn't all have the best level of exercise available."

"I agree," said Tonks, "Where are you going to get enough horses?"

"I hear that there are enough unicorns and thestrals in the forest, but we have to convince Hagrid to get them for us."

"Ah," smirked Tonks, "There's a lovely problem, how much do you know about each of those options."

"I know stories about unicorns, and enough about what ingredients can and can't be used that I begin to think that half the stories are meant as mnemonics to help remember potions things, but got confused by muggles."

Tonks shook her head, "Then let me explain."

...

After an enlightening conversation, Tonks took her out to meet Hagrid and collect his opinion. And with their help she re-arranged her sign up sheets yet another time. Then she went and found Padma in the library. She said she'd ask around, but she wasn't very interested, except perhaps for a reason to see her sister sometimes. There were so few classes that the ravenclaws and gryffindors were scheduled together.

...

They couldn't find Parvati anywhere, and no one would let them into gryffindor tower. So they decided to put off asking the gryffindors until later, but as they were leaving the redheaded twins happened by and stopped to see what they wanted. And they deputised themselves almost instantly.

Directly after supper Harriet went over to her fellow first year slitherins and announced, "I'm trying to get a riding club started, how many people are interested?"

Several hands were raised, mostly girls. Many were outside of the group of first years that she was planning on inviting. Well that could work out too.

"How many people can already ride, and won't need teaching?"

Several hands went down, but a few hands farther away went up. Boys, especially some of the older boys who thought themselves above the common masses.

"How many of you would be interested in helping teach?" she said.

A few hands went down. A few more wavered. By now the whole common room had its attention on her.

"Alright," she said, "Please sign up and indicate your level of proficiency and about how many afternoons a week you'd be interested in meeting, actually, also put down which afternoons you'd be most interested in meeting. And finally please indicate which animals you are interested in learning to ride, there will probably only be unicorns, thestrals, and hippogriffs. Thanks for your attention."

Draco was first in line. Harriet had wondered if he'd be interested. She had figured he'd either have already learned at home, or didn't want to learn at all.

...

Two days later Tonks taught her how to accumulate the selections in the survey portion into numbers and manage them into a grid that would let them see almost instantly that it made the most sense to have Thestrals on Friday, Hippogriffs on Tuesday, and Unicorns on either Mondays or Thursdays. The other thing Tonks taught her was that no one minded if you just ducked into one of the unused classrooms and borrowed a desk for several hours. You just needed a light source if it was late in the afternoon and a cleaning charm if you didn't want to be choked to death by the dust every time you moved too quickly.

...

"So," said Harriet, "we have a lot less interest from Ravenclaw, and a lot less interest in unicorns from the older classes and a lot less interest in thestrals from the younger classes."

"Did you expect otherwise?" said Tonks.

Harriet shrugged, "I expected that I guess, but I expected interest in Unicorns to drop off less sharply."

Tonks shrugged, "some of the kids think that admitting to still having their virginity means admitting to being such an annoying sort of person that no one would touch you."

"Yeah but aren't …" Harriet blinked, "I thought that was a muggle thing, I expected you to say something about seeing sex happen was enough to change what a unicorn thought of you, just like seeing someone die messes with the thestrals. Because I've seen enough animals humping for me to know all about that."

Tonks shook her head, "That's not how it was explained to me, but you're welcome to go and check what they think of you. Also most people don't talk about seeing sex because since the Victorian era it has become a much more private pastime."

"Oh," said Harriet.

"Anyway," said Tonks, "are you going to go show this schedule to Hagrid and see if he can get this many of each kind of animal, or are you going to publish it and ask people to sign up again to see how many people can make the schedule now that we have it?"

"Both I guess," said Harriet.

Tonks nodded, "I guess I'll be seeing you around."

"Fridays," agreed Harriet.

Tonks nodded and left.

Harriet went to find Hagrid.

**Birthday**

One Wednesday Snape came into the common room as he did sometimes, "Happy birthday, Harry" he said when he saw her and held out a book.

Harriet blinked and realised it _was _her birthday, her made up birthday to get access to the restricted section as soon as possible. And he commemorated with a book, how appropriate.

"Thanks," she said, "When's yours?"

"January Ninth," he sneered, "I don't expect you to get me anything."

"Good," said Harriet, "I prefer giving things to people as soon as I find things they'd like instead of holding onto them for months, which usually results in me loosing them and feeling bad. Or them finding something else and buying it for themselves."

His sneer changed a little, "an interesting philosophy,"

Harriet shrugged.

"Don't let me waste any more of your valuable time," said Snape.

"Yes, sir," she saluted and turned toward the door.

…

"Did Professor Snape really call you 'Harry' this morning?" whispered Draco as Harriet finished her eggs.

"Yes," said Harriet, "It's short for a great many things, I still haven't decided if I like it."

"Right," said Draco, "it could be awkward with your cousin."

"That's what I'm trying to figure," said Harriet, "I wouldn't go by that at home, but my cousin isn't here. But he doesn't go by that at home either. The only problem I can see is if I do start going by it, and later we start working closely together it could make things confusing."

"Ah," said Draco, "But after school you'll be going by your last name right? At least away from home."

"Perhaps," agreed Harriet.

"Is it really your birthday?" said Pansy.

"Yes," said Harriet, "does he give gifts to a lot of pupils, or only his god children, or … only when he is hinting that they need remedial knowledge in something?"

"I can only confirm about his godchildren," said Draco, "and he generally gives me books too."

"What book is it?" said Pansy.

"A sickle on 'Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts'," said Draco.

Harriet shook her head, "Rhyming fairy tales, apparently he thinks I should know the non-muggle versions of them."

"Cool, Who's the author?" said Tracy.

"The fables of Porpentina Scamander and plays of Hobart Prince."

Draco put his hand on his chest, "Merlin," he said.

"That's _rare_," said Daphne, "that's not any odd gift, that's a token of some sort."

Draco nodded, "I'm not surprised he had a copy. He's related to Horbart Prince somehow. But I'd expect him to copy something out of his family grimoire for you before he _gave _you a book like _that_."

"Wait, what?" muttered Pansy, "Related how?"

"I never asked," said Draco.

"Prince, Prince, Prince," said Daphne, "I recognise the name, but I can't remember where the line fits into the house alliance structure."

"I think it's sort of outside the structure by fiat," said Draco, "I believe it's goes back to within two generations of Arthurian times. But Hobart was just a couple hundred years ago or his book wouldn't be readable.

"That time-line doesn't sound right," said Daphne, "I mean, I think the Prince line has only been around about four hundred years or so. And I thought it had some weird deal where it doesn't have to sponsor anyone, but no one can call them blood traitors because of it. Effectively it is one generation less than achieving pure-blood status for eternity. Placing Hobart two hundred years ago sounds likely."

"Yeah," said Harriet, "Sometimes the language reminds me of Fantastic Beasts, so I figure she might have published near the same time as Newt Scamander."

Pansy snickered.

"Anyway," said Harriet, "I'm more interested in the plays anyway."

"Any good ones?" said Draco.

"They seem to all be tragedies, the brothers three is the happiest I've read so far, and it's merely fatalistic. The one that starts out as Midsummer's Night Dream goes dark really fast, until the only two humans to survive unite in grief and rage and vow vengeance on all the fairy nobility except the character who I'm guessing is meant to be Puck is 'merely' cursed to wander and never return to his Master's side. The Oberon equivalent, escapes with a very small fraction of his court to Germany. All of the Queen's entourage is massacred while searching for her. She ends up living out her days with a weaver named … well it translates to Bottom, and she sort of turns off her magic because he can't bear to look at her when she's wearing it. She mostly forgets her magic and her people until he dies and she begins to resume her old stature, though her magic can't change the fact that she's now horribly old compared to how old fairies are supposed to get. And it hints that there are some families of weavers who have inherited some form of fairy magic. She remembers her people but can't find any of them anywhere." Harriet shrugged "But Oberon feels her resume her powers and comes looking for her. But he trips wards or something when he enters his old haunts. So the descendants of both families hunted him down just as he manages to recognise Titania. A lot of people die, and all fairyland collapses without them. And the last remnant of Oberon's court fought amongst themselves until the wizards there get annoyed and kill them all too. The end." Harriet realised that everyone was staring at her.

"Good riddance," whispered all her listeners and a few from farther away that she hadn't realised had gone quiet.

A few followed it with a touching their forehead then their breastbone and whispering, "may we never go that far," or "may we never become that which we cast down."

"What?" she said.

"First of all," coughed Draco, "I'm assuming you're discussing the ballad of Myrddan and Rhydderch? I believe Hobart's retelling was the last in which the elves were portrayed in a remotely identifiable light. Second, Oberon was with Titania about a dalliance probably two earlier, and a dalliance for elves can last more than a generation among humans. Also say elves when you mean it, and fairies when you mean it, there is rather large difference."

"What is the difference?" said Harriet.

"Fairy is a poor muggle pronunciation of the name of magical western Europe when the elves ruled it," said Daphne, "They had even more contempt for humans, magical and otherwise than you-know-who had for muggles. The confusion exists because the last dynasty of The Hunt flew a banner with three pixies on it, the symbolism of which is still debated.""Umm," said Harriet.

"And last of all," said Tracy, "that is _history. _The elves _had _to go. If wizards hadn't taken took them out, some other beings would have. I offer in proof that they were evil: no one minded except the Goblins, and even _they_ didn't mind much once we figured out that they weren't just ugly elves with a different magic and different laws, and started treating them better. The international statute of secrecy is _not_ global, it only applies to the wizarding world, and the major signatories are all wizarding nations that were previously preserves of The Hunt. It exists because the wizarding world is committed to the cause: may we never go that far, may we never become that which we cast down, may we never become The Hunt."

"Umm," said Harriet, "alright."

"There is a third phrase that slips my mind right now, but it's in the histories with the other mottoes," said Tracy, "Do any of you remember it?"

"Do you mean the Latin version? 'Et non revertetur ultra in venatione.' " said Draco, "It's more common on the continent. Mum has it on the back of the door out of her study in our summer house in France."

_And no return ever, the hunting. No, Latin not __— And let the hunt return no more. _That sounded almost like some of the rune plaques that grandpa used to make.

Tracy shrugged, "there was another one, an older one, when the elves were mostly banished not destroyed, that calls on the elves to never seek revenge on those who cast them down, but re-appear and wreak their vengeance on any new dark lords who might try to follow in their footsteps."

"The Hunt has Ended, by Milo Cyril?" suggested Daphne, "I thought it very beautiful poetry until I found an English translation, and then I couldn't help seeing bits of it everywhere. Not everywhere, but you know, but in a lot of Norman era family mottoes."

"Huh," said Draco.

"What?" said Daphne.

"Oh, nothing," said Draco.

"Tell us?" said Pansy.

"I just realised how ironic it … would be if it turned out that you-know-who fell to elf magic," said Draco, "I mean it's commonly known that he manipulated everyone and despised all life but his own. A prime example of the sort of mad cruelty the King of Faire was deposed for."

"It would if this were a story book," said Daphne, "but the Potter line comes down through the Peverell line even if it went squib for several generations and before the name was reclaimed by a Black heiress with the money to buy a house of her own."

Draco looked thoughtful, Harriet glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. He knew more than he was letting on.

He shook his head. She had the distinct feeling that he wasn't refusing to answer he was forbidding her to speak.

She shrugged.

...

At lunch she managed to sit next in the last empty chair next to Daphne and away from Pansy, Draco wasn't so lucky. She looked an apology at him but he didn't seem to notice.

The conversation was beautifully lacking around Daphne, as usual. Unfortunately that meant that they could hear Pansy just fine as she tried to interrogate Draco about his mother's politics during the war, apparently Draco's comments during breakfast or his mention of his mother's plaque had piqued her interest.

Finally Tracy said a little bit loudly, "is anyone doing anything to celebrate Harry Potter Day, or is everyone going to just stick to the traditional Calan Gaeaf observances?"

Harriet managed to catch most of her half-chewed food in her hand. "What in Merlin's name is Harry Potter day," she hissed, and then turned red as she realised that everyone _else_ had gone silent directly after Tracy had spoken.

Someone a quarter of the way down the table cheered her, then had to explain to his conversation partner what Harriet had just said. Which confused Harriet even more.

"Harry Potter day is a celebration of the downfall of you-know-who," explained Daphne soberly, "you'll find it's not the most popular sort of thing among a small but vocal faction of older slytherin pupils."

"Oh," said Harriet, "I imagine Harry Potter doesn't appreciate people celebrating the anniversary of his orphaning."

"Is orphaning a word?" said Pansy.

Harriet noticed that no one chose to dignify Pansy with a reply.

"Traditional Calan Gaeaf it is then," said Tracy.

"Quite," said Daphne, "there are plenty of fallen to remember, without needing to speak ill of anyone's enemies."

"Point of order," said Blaise "am I to understand that Calan Gaeaf is the Gaelic equivalent of All Saints Day?"

"Not by intention, but effectively the aspects of practice are so similar that one would think that they grew up together, one under Druids and one under Catholics," said Millicent, "Calan Gaeaf means first day of winter," and then she lectured for about half an hour on the practices of each, and of Samhain. Which was generally 40 days earlier on the solstice, depending on nationality. They were all harvest festivals, and they had a special connection to remembering the departed.

No one tried to stop her, Harriet wondered if everyone wanted to know but hadn't wanted to say so, or if everyone was conspiring to help Millicent to eat less. After she finished one of the prefects came over and told the first years what festivities they could expect to be provided by Hogwarts, such as an evening feast with pumpkin lanterns and flapping bat illusions. What traditions pupils would have to provide for themselves. They were especially advised to travel in large groups and avoid 'tricks' offered by Gryffindors who could not be trusted to understand what counted as good taste for Calan Gaeaf.

**{End Chapter 9}**


	10. Halloween

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters WOULD have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Halloween**

On the way to breakfast, and all during breakfast, every single prefect who hadn't warned them the day before warned them again: stay in groups, don't let your guard down around Gryffindors, not even your friends. Although you might know better than anyone whether to trust each of your friends to keep their tricking within the realm of good taste.

"Why are they saying these things about the Gryffindors," said Pansy.

Draco shrugged, "haven't you figured it out, the Gryffindors think we're crafty to the point of being evil, which is to say: we actually plan our actions to match our goals, we think: they are impulsive to the point of being stupid."

"Yeah, but … Ron," said Pansy.

"Ron is impulsive too," said Draco, "though perhaps not so you'd notice."

Pansy stared at him for several seconds before flouncing off.

"Did I miss something?" said Harriet.

"Ever since you and Zabini started making Ron come to you for chess games," explained Tracy in an undertone, "Pansy has been stalking him."

"Is Ron is as oblivious as I was?" said Harriet.

"Pretty much," said Daphne, "though you have the excuse of knowing Pansy well enough to already be trying to ignore her."

"Yeah, but," said Harriet, "alright, I get it, sorry."

"Don't apologise to me," said Daphne.

"Never mind," said Harriet.

...

Charms went well, Daphne achieved control so quickly Draco suggested that she'd had tutoring at home, she smirked and said something about wanting to see him try to fake not knowing how to cast the hover charm. He looked petulantly at her and cast several times before his feather twitched, then he squeaked and jumped back.

Daphne clapped, He tried again and got it to stagger up into the air, after several vain attempts he dragged it over to Daphne's desk and they started an improvised war-kite-like duel or whatever kind of feather based wrestling match they were going for. Tracy huffed in annoyance and went back to trying to get her feather to do anything at all.

Harriet looked down and tried to work up any concentration at all and imagine the correct state of mind for this sort of charm.

"Oh, well done!" gushed Pansy, "what am I doing wrong?"

"No idea," said Ron, "I don't even know what I'm doing right." He was apparently oblivious to Pansy's tone. Or it was obvious enough that he'd realised _and _made up his mind to ignore it. Harriet had seen him completely ignore a deadly attack when he knew his checkmate would pay off a single move earlier.

Someone else was _not_ oblivious. Granger could not leave them to flirt in peace and decided to correct his pronunciation and her wand work.

_This was not going to end well_. Parvati's eyes met Harriet's from across the room as they both looked on. Brown was muttering furiously and Parvati was daring Harriet to intervene first. Harriet shrugged, free pointers were free pointers, and if the condescending tone was aimed at someone else, so much the better, she didn't like Pansy anyway, and Ron… could stand to have some pointers, in just about everything.

It didn't take long, but it was Flitwick who intervened. By awarding points, not to Daphne for being first or best but to Granger for being "helpful."

Not that Harriet had expected Daphne to get points after Draco started the feather duel

Something tickled her ear. Harriet slapped it and found a feather in her hand. She looked around to see who was missing a feather. Not Parvati, or Draco, no one was. It was her own feather. Whoever had been taunting her for woolgathering had not planned on getting caught. Fair enough. So much for staying on guard.

...

As soon as they exited class and teacher supervision, things went downhill fast, But Draco and Seamus managed to get them all to transfiguration without mishap. Everyone except Ron and Pansy seemed _eager _for there to be no mishap.

...

It didn't last, in fact Granger sat next to Ron, blocking Pansy. Ron acted oblivious, but sniped at her the whole class. Granger racked up a few more points. As soon as classes were over Ron and Pansy gave it to her with both barrels. Everyone else was happy to leave them to it.

And if, after all the warnings, Pansy got separated from the group and set upon by anyone with aspirations of competent bully-hood, they were welcome to try their luck.

Harriet found herself pulled aside into an unused classroom. "What the?" she said balling her fists and wondering if she knew a spell that might be appropriate to stop a school bully, most everything she'd been reading for defence was dangerous enough that she'd hesitate to use it outside a real battle.

It was only Parvati, Harriet steeled herself for a lecture about not standing up to Granger or not helping diffuse the situation, which wasn't fair, she hadn't had those classes yet!Perhaps Parvati _had_ sneaked into one of them. She should ask.

"Are you really related to Harry Potter?" said Parvati, "I mean his mum…"

"Yes," sighed Harriet, "cousin, his mum and mine are sisters. _Were_ sisters."

Parvati nodded, "alright, sorry. But her name came up and I suddenly wondered."

Harriet shrugged.

"Do you ever visit him?" Parvati said, "do you even know where he lives?"

_How much should she tell? Padma could keep secrets, but Parvati __… was less reliable,_ "My parents know how to get in touch with him," said Harriet, "he has paparazzi problems or something."

"Oh," said Parvati, "Yeah, of course he does."

Harriet shrugged.

"Thanks. Sorry to bother you."

"Don't worry about it," said Harriet, "how's your sister?"

"We don't talk much," said Parvati, "It's kind of weird, I know she's nearby, which makes it easier to make friends and get things done, but it's weird not trading lessons at the end of each day."

Harriet shrugged again and wondered if she shrugged too much whether it would become meaningless. "Have you considered meeting in the afternoon, we have most of them free."

Parvati shrugged, "it wouldn't work, she already has a habit of reading all afternoon, it would have to be right after supper or something."

"I see," said Harriet.

"Umm, Harriet?" said Parvati.

"What?" said Harriet, here it comes.

"How do you stand Pansy?"

_OK, not what I expected after all. _Harriet suppressed a shrug, "How do you stand Ron?"

"I don't," said Parvati, "I ignore the fact that he exists, until and unless I need something done that he's good at, which I think means, if I ever have to solve a chess puzzle, or need something big to hide behind, or something high reached down for me, though that's becoming less of a problem."

Harriet grinned, "I love getting tall."

"Seriously," said Parvati, "Well except for the stretching out of our clothes like Alice in Wonderland, luckily there are charms for that. I just didn't expect it to happen this fast, and I have no idea how tall we'll get, but whatever."

"You're mum isn't very tall."

"Yeah, but Da's mum is huge."

"Oh," said Harriet, "Have I met her?"

"Probably not," said Parvati, "anyway, which of your relatives are you going to pray for?"

"Probably Harry's parents and our grandparents."

Parvati nodded, "I always thought Christians didn't pay attention to your elders, but then I realise that you just pay attention differently because you aren't expecting them to be coming back for more lessons."

Harriet nodded, she didn't have much to say to half the things Parvati said, and she really didn't have any idea what to think about their religion. The only thing she knew for a fact was that Parvati's mother could quote from about eighteen different religious traditions to get her points across to mundanes. And that she could usually tell which ones would respond better to being quoted at from their own tradition, and which would prefer to hear an old sage from another religion, and who would prefer to hear something from a pop song.

...

"Let's get out of here," said Harriet, "I want lunch and I'm going to walk with you, unless you think being seen together will make us targets."

"Targets of what?"

"Rumour is: Inter-house pranking and bullying get worse today and tomorrow and is more likely to be in poorer taste for all the excuse it might receive for having a possible seasonal significance."

"Ew," said Parvati, "Then we go together, if someone objects, you can claim me for a bodyguard, or I can claim you for a what is it called when you have permission to exist because one of the pure blood families said so?"

"Sponsor house," said Harriet, "Or 'client line,' respectively. And I'm not pureblood, but you're right, I'd sponsor you if I could."

"Thanks," said Parvati, "And I you, if we were in India, and I _am _pure blood there, in spite of foreign blood on Dad's side two generations back."

"Did you ever read those books I lent you?"

"No, but Padma did," said Parvati.

"Did she try to tell you what was in them?"

"She said for me to wear my hair up or at least in a ponytail, which I do anyway, though if it keeps getting colder I might change my mind."

"Don't," said Harriet, "find a hood or turtleneck or something, perhaps both."

"What are we, Muslim? Anyway—"

"Completely different tradition, but same practical application. And similar assumptions made for those who don't comply."

"Umm," said Parvati, "and she said to read the books as soon as possible. Which is a poor joke, I can't even keep up with my readings for class."

Harriet sighed, "I should have figured."

Parvati shrugged, "and something about never letting anyone question my pureblood status, I may or may not need _introducing_ into British society but I'm pureblood regardless."

"That might get you through term, but…"

"But what?"

"But you might consider giving up two weekends to read those books, or read them over winter break or something. You don't want anyone to assume you're wilfully uncivilised."

"Of course not, but there's civilisation and then there's civilisation, mine is a millennium or three older."

Harriet blinked, "alright, fine, for a moment I believed you. You need to work on that. And you need to realise that people will assume things from posture without asking your opinion on yourself or their culture."

Parvati stood up straighter, "fine then."

Harriet smirked.

Parvati sneered back.

"Better," said Harriet.

Parvati grinned and relaxed a little, "Lavender would kill me for _acting above my station_."

"Ah, but is it above your station?"

"I'm a circus performer," said Parvati, "Lavender counts herself about three classes up from that, but she believes in _class mobility_."

"I'd like to see her leap from a horse to a fence post and take off through a portkey without breaking a sweat or loosing her poise."

"That's right, you didn't do so well with the portkey," said Parvati, "I saw you clutch that rope and wonder why it wasn't wrapped securely around at least one of your legs."

"Don't remind me," said Harriet, "anyway, it doesn't matter, I'm going to get my own broom."

"You _would_… Oh!" said Parvati, "Oh!"

Parvati turned and leaned up against the nearest wall, as if about to faint.

"What?" said Harriet.

"Do you think I could dance between two brooms?"

"Oh!" said Harriet, "perhaps, I've never quite figured out whether they respond to my thoughts or to the way I lean, or both. If it's by leaning, then perhaps if you can keep close enough to the centre you could do your tip toe stunts, but … but I'd be frightened that if you misjudge it's going to tip in the direction you're already overbalanced.

"But that's just it, they don't tip in the direction you're over balanced, they accelerate in a way that helps you re-balance, at least at lower speeds. I'll have to try."

"Either try really close to the ground," said Harriet, "Or high enough up and with a spotter who you trust to catch you."

"Can you turn into MacLagan and play catcher?"

Harriet snorted, "I can turn into MacLagan, and I can catch your hand. I have no idea how well I can maintain control of my broom at the same time, which is the point. Perhaps we should both practice some before we go too high."

"The lake," said Parvati.

"What about it."

"We can practice over it," said Parvati, "Padma told me that the trapeze was invented over a swimming pool, we can practice there and find out what is even possible before we have to worry about risking our necks over solid ground."

"Sounds like a plan," said Harriet, "Are there heating charms?"

"I believe so," said Parvati, "That's a good idea. I'll ask Padma."

"Ask her specifically about warding our clothes to warm up if they drop below a certain temperature. Or get wet, or whatever."

"Ah," said Parvati, "I didn't know _that _was possible."

"Wards are awesome, if you can find the one you want."

"Wow,"

"Or 'enchantments,' I haven't quite figured out which means which."

...

As soon as lunch was over the prefects ordered them all back to the dungeons, to 'make costumes' no one seemed either fooled by the pretext or willing to complain. Two second years were in the hospital wing already, one with a bloody nose and one with a scraped knee and sparkly green skin. The story was the prefects were trying to cheer her up with compliments how awesome her scales looked, and that it wasn't wearing off and not to mention it.

Making costumes was a little on the boring side, school robes would be required at dinner, as usual, so it was mostly just drawing on kerchiefs or transfiguring them into masks. Apparently that was very traditional in some places.

Mostly only the upper years transfigured, and mostly the younger years only drew or pretended to be 'too mature to participate' until they finally had an inspiration.

Harriet already knew who she was going as, so when a prefect offered to help her she asked for a spiky haired wig. Black.

Then she put her hair up in a crown instead of a bun, and tried to transfigure green contact lenses.

She was seen trying and failing the transfiguration for several minutes, but she kept on until enough people had interrogated her about the use of contact lenses by muggles in general, and in theatre specifically. She was about to give up and discretely change her appearance to match what she actually wanted, when the transfiguration took and she could relax.

Several minutes more, and she had them a comfortable shape.

"That's just creepy," said Tracy, "I would never do that. Who are you going as?"

Harriet turned to her and put on her wig, "No guesses?"

"I have no idea," said Tracy, "some Japanese version of Dracula?"

"No," said Harriet, "Are you any good with makeup?"

Tracy twitched her eyebrows, "If I was, would I look like this? Ask Daphne if you want to look good, ask Pansy if you want to look hideous. Bulstrode if you want … to look hufflepuff."

That was a matter of opinion, "Curse scars are supposed to look hideous," said Harriet, and went looking for Pansy.

Pansy wanted bright ruby red contacts in return, and watched the process with an avid curiosity bordering on obsession. And asked excruciating details.

Harriet finally said, "Could you at least wait until I'm done?"

It turned out that she couldn't, but somehow in the process Harriet managed to understand and make significantly more progress understanding the process that happened at the moment when the transfiguration finally took. She suddenly wanted to go review her homework and try all her failed transfiguration exercises again.

But it wasn't the time, she had to explain to Pansy how to insert and remove them. And then make sure that they were the right shape, and then Pansy wanted Harriet to make the centre 'clear enough to see out of.' That time Harriet managed instantly.

Perhaps she was on the right track. But she couldn't go check her findings, she had to sit, while Pansy insisted on making Harriet's scar red instead of brown or white and bigger than she'd always made Harry's. Harriet went with it, in the spirit of the occasion. She drew the line at Pansy's offer of a trickle of fake blood but she let Pansy talk her into, 'red enough you'd expect it to start bleeding at any moment.'

Then she went and stared at herself in the mirror. She didn't look enough like a boy, she didn't think she could change the shape of her face with just makeup, but that wasn't the only way. She went and asked Daphne if she could make her upper lip just dark enough that someone would think she had a third year's amount of beginner moustache. Daphne thought it was a stupid idea, until she realised how delicate an operation it was, and that the asking was a complement.

Snape came in and grumbled at the mess. One of the prefects explained the ruse and he put on the air of a visiting general and inspected the troops.

Harriet and Daphne decided that he had a long way to go before he got to them and went back to work.

Another prefect cleared his throat right beside them. Again. Daphne pulled her brush away and they looked up. It wasn't a prefect, it was Professor Snape. "Merlin," whispered Snape turning white, then red, "Who the hell are you?"

Harriet yanked off her wig, "It's just me."

"I know who you are, Harry, I was wondering who you're trying to be."

"Mm—, I was trying for the Heir Potter," said Harriet.

"That's insane," he said, "you're insane."

"It was you who gave me the idea when you called me 'Harry' yesterday."

Snape's mouth dropped open, finally he managed, "And what would _he _think?"

"Potter of Potter would say …" she frowned,_ what would he say? It would depend on the repercussions. He would expect her to gauge the consequences exactly and plan for them and take responsibility for them as if she intended them to start with_. "Dressing up as one's elders _is _a tolerated part of the holiday tradition. However, dear cousin, why? You could have dressed as the queen, or that smarmy headmaster of yours, and instead you chose to impersonate your sponsor. Is there something wrong with your ambition, or is this meant as some sort of complement?"

"Yes," said Snape, "I suppose that is about what Potter would say."

"Heir Potter?" whispered Daphne, seconds ahead of the rest of the room, "Lord Harry Potter of Potter is your sponsor?"

"Yes," said Harriet irritably, and turned back to Snape, "D—"

"You knew!" yelled Blaise and tackled Draco from his chair. "You knew and you didn't tell me!"

"I was advised strongly against it," muttered Draco, "I doubt she announced it without consulting Dad."

"I see," said Snape. Then he sneered, "I shall permit this under one condition."

"What's that?"

"You _never _wear Gryffindor colours with that getup."

A muttered chorus of "Ooh" went round the common room.

"I'll accept that in the spirit it was meant," said Harriet as imperiously as she could manage.

Snape stared at her, then looked away. "How about you Miss Greengrass?"

"I didn't know sir," she said, "I … it's obvious now but I didn't see it."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," said Snape, "I doubt any except the professors who knew his parents will even begin to guess without help."

"Oh," said Daphne and relaxed.

"I meant, how is your masque coming along?"

"I finished mine this morning," said Daphne, "I guess my ambition is only slightly higher than Matirni."

"How so?" said Snape.

"I'm going as Greengrass of Greengrass."

Snape sneered, "so be it." And he walked on.

Daphne sighed. "You could have told me," she whispered.

"I was _hoping _someone would guess," said Harriet, "I don't have my prosthetic kit or I could match his face exactly instead of just his eyes and sort of match his hair. If more people had guessed it would have been a good indication that I've done alright."

"These supplies … You can't transfigure them?"

"If I started two weeks ago, maybe, if I didn't also have to learn how to transfigure latex in that time."

"Hmm," said Daphne, "Alright then. Don't forget what our Professor said, very few of us know what he looks like."

...

**McGonnagall**

The feast was going well, regardless of what it meant for the average mortal, for MacGonagall it marked the halfway point of the first term. The only major problem she anticipated going forward was quidditch, from the looks of Oliver Wood's behaviour, he wasn't anticipating a better year this year than last. And when Gryffindors weren't winning quidditch games, they were acting out. And she didn't want to see that. And the first game was only a week and a half away. That and the slitherins were late.

And if two slytherins where late to the same meeting they were up to something, therefore something was about to start going wrong. Because competent slytherins would instead make things go … _more _right, at least at first. And _competent _slytherins wouldn't tip their hands by being late.

Ah, there they were, and arriving en mass, second piece of evidence they were up to something.

Severus slipped into his chair at her side.

"Is everything under control?" she said mildly.

He snorted.

That was much too ambiguous to _not _mean something ominous.

"How bad is it?" she said.

He snorted again, "bad enough that I expect the headmaster will feel called upon to make a scene."

"That's not helpful."

"Is he ever?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Should I be preparing anyone in particular so that there isn't a—" she sprang to her feet for a better look. "Who?" she said.

"Harriet Matirni, She thought it would be in fitting tribute to the spirit of the day to come as the lord of her sponsor's house."

"OK, then who _is_ she dressed as?"

"Her cousin, Harry Potter, she looks nothing like him, he takes after his father except his mother's eyes, her representation as you can see is as if he took after his mother except his father's hair."

"But the Potters sponsored last in the thirties, they don't have to for another generation, or… or _two_."

"I'm not clear on that, some families have a policy that requires more often when their funds are above a certain minimum level. A difference perhaps best explained by the variation between the letter of the law and the spirit of the underlying tradition."

"If you say so," she said, "luckily there's very little angst about it in gryffindor."

"Yes well," said Severus, "do sit down, you're steering more attention to her."

She sat down.

"Which is probably what she was looking for," he said, "she's mostly kept a low profile, but since her birthday yesterday she's been … different."

"Different how?"

"She believes she is of age, something of a family tradition."

"Jewish?"

"Perhaps," said Severus, "Not that I would have guessed, but perhaps in eastern Europe where her father's line comes from these things are more widely done?"

"I see," she said, "I don't like it."

"I am not comfortable with it, luckily the only thing we've been asked to recognise is, an 'adult's level of access to the library'."

"The pupils aren't allowed anything different when they come of age."

"Of course not," said Snape, "I take it that Harry Potter heard some garbled rumours of the restricted section and that it was permitted to journeymen and misunderstood somewhere."

"Ah," said MacGonagall, "Has Albus dictated policy yet?"

"No, but after tonight I expect he'll realise the need."

"Right," she said.

Albus arrived fashionably late, didn't check to see who was or was not absent, and started the feast.

As he finished his first course he straightened and looked over the pupils, she could tell where he was looking around from the sound of his beard as he turned his head back and forth to look over each table.

"There seems to be some disturbance among our pupils," he said.

"Quite," she said.

"I'm under the impression that it focused on, or is in anticipation of, an event in slytherin."

"Harriet Matirni has dressed as Harry Potter."

"Oh, _has _she." He said, "Where is she."

"On the far side, about a third of the way down, the big red scar."

"And a moustache, how droll."

"That is not how I would describe the effect she is having. Snape says, she has a family resemblance, but does not actually resemble him much."

"No," said Albus, "he shared his memory of the child with me, and that is not him. Though the family resemblance is … disturbing when combined with … that image of the scar and … horrible memories."

"Quite," said MacGonagall, "Though I'm given to understand that many believe that the point of the day is to be disturbing. Though I admit it made a lot more sense before the war."

"Yes," said Albus, "They are children, let them have their fun."

"I wonder how many hadn't realised that the two were related and might remark on it now."

"I hadn't realised they were related," said Flitwick from down the table, "And to think that he's chosen to sponsor her line as well. It speaks well of him, I'd almost bet on hufflepuff if there were any point to the wager."

"Ah," said Albus, "Is her sponsorship common knowledge now as well?"

"It seems to be," said MacGonagall, "or it may be soon. If it's not only rumour."

"It's not," said Albus, "or if it is her family has faked it for no apparent purpose. But there is little need for that, if he is thankful for her family taking him in, it is little wonder that he'd want to do something in return, but sponsorship is a rather large responsibility and it's not clear to me that he has the resources to see it through."

"Albus, I've heard you say dozens of times that you didn't have time for pure-blood politics like this,"

"I don't, but I have to make time. The network of sponsor/client favours colours _everything_, I'd hoped that by keeping Harry out of magical Britain he could grow up unencumbered by these sorts of things and become a leader for _all _Britain."

"Has it occurred to anyone," said Snape, "That by sponsoring his own cousin he has minimised his exposure to additional responsibilities, and those which he formally took on were probably those which he already felt via the family connection."

"Reasonable," said Flitwick, "and perhaps a good enough gamble that he didn't wait until he was of age as would have been more common practice. I don't see what the big deal is, I predict that next year everyone will dress as Harry Potter."

"I agree," said Pomona Sprout, "I have two Merlins, and a Helga, all three Peverells, we even had a proposal for a 'Prince of England' of Der Bussant style, but everyone helped talk _that one _down. I'm almost glad to see that her costume can be managed with a wig and lip dye."

"Is this the 'Prince of England' was the one who played mad Nebuchadnezzar in the woods until he got a hold of his love's ring again?"

"Right," said Pomona.

"I'm glad that got straightened out," said Severus, "And her costume also involved transfiguring green contact lenses, a skill which she taught herself over the course of the afternoon."

"What kind of lenses?" said Aurora.

"Contact lenses are tiny pieces of glass placed directly on the eye," said Severus, "these have enough of a green tint that her eyes look like her cousin's, whose eyes are actually a brighter tint than his mother's."

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" said Flitwick, "most people try to keep tiny pieces of glass _away _from themselves."

Severus shrugged, "muggles work with what they have, they do a lot of counter-intuitive things… At times to great effect."

"Yes, well."

They'd talked over the pasta course, but when the main course appeared they became silent again.

.

"Harriet's done," muttered Albus and stood up, "Harry Potter, come here please."

It took almost a minute for Harriet to extricate herself from her friends and make her way to stand before the head table. Where she seemed to look imperious and demure simultaneous. She nodded to the headmaster and stated in a monotone, "The ears of Harry Potter, Heir of House Potter attend you, sir."

Flitwick squeaked something that seemed to be approval for form. Snape muttered something back about style and forcing the headmaster's seriousness.

Then Harriet dropped her eyes slightly, "would it bother you, sir, if I took notes?"

"Not at all, my child, not at all." Agreed Albus magnanimously.

Harriet looked irritated, but drew her wand and conjured … no, transfigured specks of dust into an austere desk and chair, seasoned oak (or pine stained to look like it.) She took out parchment and ink and sat down before looking up to stare intently at he headmaster.

"My dear boy," began the headmaster, in a different tone, "I received your letter of introduction with great interest and have taken the time to consider each of your points. I have come to the conclusion that—"

The doors crashed open and Professor Quirrell entered with no attention to the pomp in progress. He staggered to a stop in front of the headmaster with breathless haste. His stutter was gone but his heaving sides made him almost as impossible to understand.

"Troll! in the dungeons, thought, you should know." And his eyes rolled back in his head as he clutched at the table before fainting.

"Impressive acting," muttered Severus, "Stupefy."

"Was that really necessary?" said MacGonagall.

"There are still too many pupils who arrived late for me to be worried about one 'professor' who can't handle a troll, or send a patronus. I'd say, with any luck he led it straight here and we can deal with it immediately. But doubtless there is no troll, and it's just a prank he cooked up with the headmaster to add excitement and highlight why defence is a necessary skill set."

"Umm," said MacGonagall, and decided not to mention that she wasn't sure she could handle a troll without backup. Backup and twenty minutes to get back into the auror mindset she'd given up so long ago. "And without luck, where would we be?"

"Hunting it through the halls with prefects tagging along trying to help."

"Prefects!" boomed the headmaster over the swelling hubbub, "gather your houses and go straight to your dorms, lock the doors."

"Oh, now that's uncalled for," Muttered Severus under Albus' continued instructions: "Staff pair off and let's find that Troll. Harriet go with your class we'll finish this later."

"What?" said MacGonagall, "you were just wishing for something safe for the prefects to be doing?"

"Yes, but not leading Hufflepuff and Slytherin straight into the dungeons where the 'troll' was last seen. Whoever thought up this game certainly didn't think this through."

"Ah," said MacGonagall, "Or perhaps they did, slitherins have to face their fears and Gryffindors are ordered to flee the battle, it will be interesting to see how many follow orders."

"May I recommend you're with me, Pomona is with Flitwick, Sinistra is with Hagrid."

"Suits me," said MacGonagall, and realised that that they'd all come to the same conclusion, And suddenly glad that the divination professor seemed to be boycotting the party, as usual. "Let's go."

**{End Chapter 10}**


	11. Troll

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Rescue**

"Blaise!" it was Ron Weasley.

"What," said Blaise irritably. What a time for Ron to break ranks.

"Hermione Granger," said Weasley, "I haven't seen her all afternoon, I think she's still moping about Pansy but… but we've got to warn her about the troll,"

"Oh I see," said Blaise, his mind instantly turning to the rapidly dwindling crowd of friendlies behind him, the possibility that Weasley was an idiot who didn't know how to save his own skin, the probable outcomes of the developing love triangle between Ron and his two girls, and the absolute injustice of Ron of all people having two girls already. "Let's go!"

And then only then did he remember the possibility that Ron might should be considered suspect of wishing to lead him into trouble of some sort. Ergo, take the lead rather than be led into an ambush. He ducked and ran toward the doors at the back of the great hall, intent on getting through them before anyone noticed that they were not with their respective houses.

When he stopped for air and to peer cautiously around the next corner he realised that Pansy was with them. Damn … or … very good, he'd have to play more carefully with her on the board. But that was for later, "Point Me, Hermione Granger," he cast and was relieved to feel the spell take.

"Upstairs somewhere," he said, "Let's go."

"Nice one," said Pansy.

Blaise ignored her and ran.

Much to Blaise' disgust they found the troll before they found Hermione.

"Is there some way we could immobilise it?" said Ron, "trap it in a classroom?"

"How about I get it's attention and lead it back to the teachers," said Blaise.

"How are you going to do that," said Ron, "Safely I mean."

"The normal way," said Blaise, "by being cute," then he raised his voice in a sing song, "Hey buddy, oho tro-oll."

"In that case it should be _me_," said Pansy.

"No way," said Ron, "What are you even doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here," said Pansy, "I'm making sure you don't get hurt."

"Whatever," said Ron.

"rrrrARG!" said the troll.

"Duck!" said Ron and hid behind the nearest a suit of armour.

Pansy and Blaise joined him instantly.

"There isn't room for all of us," muttered Ron, "couldn't either of you have chosen a different blind."

"Is that a technical term?" said Pansy.

"Yes," said Blaise, "a hunting term, but it doesn't matter he can _smell _us."

The Troll was angling across the hall toward their hiding place.

"Are you really going to lead him to the teachers, or shall I? I recommend taking him directly to the central stair cases. If you're lucky you can get on a stairway just as it starts moving and he won't be able to follow you."

"And if I'm not lucky?" said Pansy.

"There won't be a staircase available and you'll have to scream your heart out to get the teachers to you before the troll gets to the landing. And knocks you off. Or you jump off, as Neville demonstrated falls are often less fatal than having limbs bitten off. Though I've heard he can also bounce or something."

"Also when there are no stairways up, there are stairways down," said Pansy logically, "and vice versa.: Which was a statement about the schedule of the motion of the stairs, not a statement about the timing of them.

"Are you willing to bet on that?" said Blaise.

Pansy smirked, and ran, stopping every dozen steps to taunt the troll. The troll picked up speed.

"And if you're really lucky," muttered Blaise, "he won't be able to make the turn and will crash to his death like old Joe Larch."

"Why did you let her go?" said Ron.

"Because if I'd gone she'd have gone too, to make sure the troll stayed gone," said Blaise, "She really likes you you know."

Ron shrugged, "she's not as good as Harriet, but she really enjoys playing, you can tell she enjoys playing."

"Quite," said Blaise, "I think they're far enough away for us to move on now. Point me."

The went on and found the bathroom where Granger had been rumoured to be sequestered. The magic definitely pointed to the bathroom. Blaise knocked, "Madam Granger, your knights have arrived."

"Wha?" sniffed Granger.

"There's a troll loose," said Ron, "We thought you should know."

"Oh," said Granger.

Blaise looked daggers at him then continued, "We're supposed to all go to our dorms, but we realised that you hadn't got the message so we came looking for you."

Pansy screamed, and something else happened that sounded suspiciously like a banister splintering.

Ron stared daggers at Blaise.

Pansy screamed again and it sounded like she was moving rapidly farther away.

Ron turned and ran after her.

Granger appeared not a moment after, "What's going on?" she said in her bossy, take-charge attitude.

Blaise would have been in love, except he'd just explained, "I just said—"

"No, I mean who's screaming?"

"Pansy," said Blaise, "she led the troll off so we could get to you."

"You already ran into the troll?" she said, "this was not simply a case of being the messengers because of how you, well not you, but how the other two treated me earlier."

Something went thud loud enough to shake the castle, the dust of ages sifted down from the tops of portraits and wall sconces. That shouldn't have been the noise Pansy would make hitting the bottom. Surely the stairs didn't extend _that_ far underground. Not that he'd ever gone down to check. Hogwarts was known to be big enough to get lost in. And not 'big enough' by the normal definition, nor 'lost' by the normal definition. And while he didn't really enjoy Pansy's company no one deserved to die like that. And she'd volunteered after he'd already said he would do the needful. He could have refused. She wasn't a gryffindor and wouldn't have thought 'dying to protect her love' counted as a fitting end.

Pansy crowed like a feminist quidditch star. From _much _nearer by than the bottom of the stairs.

"They might be irritated at your manners sometimes," said Blaise, exactly his thoughts on Pansy a moment earlier, "But no on wants you dead."

"Oh," she said.

"Also their manners aren't all that polished so they shouldn't complain," he waved indicatively toward the end of the hall where the crowing was coming from.

"Quite," she smirked.

"May I escort you to your tower?" he said, "or would you prefer to wait for Mr. Weasley to return?"

"I think I can find my own way," she said, "thanks for the rescue, even if it was mostly Pansy."

"It was my idea she used," said Blaise, "though to be truthful she decided to be the one to implement it because she didn't trust me to look out for 'her' Ron."

"Oh," said Hermione, "is _that_ what's wrong with her."

"I'm afraid so," said Blaise, "And as soon as Ron decided that his message had been delivered he went after her."

"Things begin to become clear," she said.

"Quite," said Blaise, pleased beyond measure that she was that quick on the uptake, he hadn't been sure what her mind was capable of outside of book learning.

"So who should I thank, Exactly?" said Hermione.

"Ron for realising that you were missing, and alerting me to the fact. I for quick use of the four points charm to lead us here, and for developing a plan to deal with the troll, Pansy for implementing it. I swear she should be on the quidditch team, her timing is impeccable."

"Oh," she said, "thanks then, Umm, so what's next?"

"Getting to our dorms before the teachers find us and ask what we're doing out and about. We were ordered to our dorms, did I mention that even though it meant the slitherins and hufflepuffs would have to head toward the last reported location of the troll."

"Who gave _that _order?" Hermione said, and turned half around, orienting herself to the hall, and the castle.

"The headmaster."

She blinked, "I'm beginning to understand what the hufflepuffs have been whispering about him going senile."

"It's not the only option, but it is one of the more plausible," agreed Blaise, "is there a reason we're not running?"

"The troll is either dead or at the bottom of the stair chamber?"

"And the teachers are theoretically converging there? Yes, But they will be spreading out to locate all their lost pupils as soon as they decide it's dead for sure."

"Good point," she said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Quite," he said and hightailed it for the farthest stairway that usually went all the way to the dungeons, since he was working under the assumption that the central stares would be clogged with teachers and hypocritical safety lectures.

…

Aftermaths: Nott

...

As soon as they reached the common room everyone was counted off and the strays were listed and everyone that was accounted for was sent to their rooms until breakfast or an all clear was sounded.

After a while Pansy turned up with Snape, she'd been in the hospital wing and two of the other two strays were there and had been most of the afternoon. Pansy refused to admit why she was late, or had been to the hospital wing. Snape asked who was left.

"Just Blaise," said Nott.

Pansy clenched her jaw and looked around.

"Go relieve yourself or whatever you need," said Snape, "I expect the elves will bring us the rest of our dinners shortly."

Pansy nodded and left.

"Umm," said Vincent from just inside the door to the boy's hall, "are you still looking for Blaise?"

"Yes," said Nott.

"He's snoring in his bed," said Vincent, "I'm sorry, I didn't think to check there, I was sure he'd been at supper."

"Whatever," said Nott, "As long as he's not hurt or missing."

Vincent nodded.

Nott turned back to Snape, "Sorry sir, he slipped through my accounting, I didn't think to check if any had arrived before me."

"It didn't turn out to be a problem this time," said Snape, "the danger was over before someone might have been mistakenly sent out to look for him. And you'll remember next time."

"Yes, Professor," said Nott.

...

It turned out that defying teachers and other deadly monsters were as good if not better methods of making friends than sharing secrets or playing games together. The next day after classes Ron and Hermione visited. Ron to play chess with Pansy and Blaise, Hermione to tutor whichever of them wasn't playing chess with Ron.

Ron may or may not have been a little distracted from his game by her lectures.

...

And Draco, as usual, set out his books to study two chairs away from Blaise. Harriet as usual, when Pansy or Tracy wasn't dictating otherwise, set out her own study materials two chairs away from Draco.

And both of them, as usual, got about ninety percent done with their revisions before getting bored and starting to ask each other about their respective childhoods. The tradition had started weeks earlier because Draco wanted to know about Harry Potter, but paid close enough attention to Harriet's evasions to realise that her family lived a very different, much more interesting life than he did.

Or so he thought. Harriet had quickly deduced from his questions bits about how his life differed from hers and asked her own questions in return.

**Daphne's room**

Over the course of November, it became common to see Ron and Hermione around, Ron playing chess with all comers, which he seemed pleased was a larger proportion of the slitherins than it was of gryffindors, Hermione lecturing to anyone who would listen. Or as was sometimes the case, listening to an upperclassman who felt the need to correct her (and usually a textbook) on some point.

On days when there was slytherin business, or just upperclassman business, that required the common room, the six of them would adjourn to an empty class room near the stair up to the first floor. Daphne and Tracey were often there before them but no one seemed to mind. Usually reading, usually on a transfigured couch.

Harriet was intrigued by the idea of transfiguring cloth and cushions instead of wood or glass and had to give it a try or two before sitting on whatever she'd managed and going back to her studies. Sometimes they were joined by Hufflepuffs with similar issues, (apparently their common room had odd acoustics that usually meant even one conversation made the whole room sound cosy and lived in, but there were several locations, a large area by the biggest fireplace, another just by the door, and a few other places that no one could quite keep track of where anything you so much as whispered would be clearly carried to the whole room.) So some days it would suddenly become absolutely terrible to study in.

Until one day it came out that Daphne _did_ mind, (it might have had something to do with Ron's comment to Blaise that Daphne and Tracy would be a good couple if they weren't both heiresses and having 'family duties' to uphold) She cleared her throat marched to the door and affixed a transfigured plaque to it.

Everyone stared.

Daphne never stomped her feet and never let anyone except Tracy know she was irritated. And no one was sure if she knew that she let Tracy see her eyes roll, or whether Tracy could tell anyway so Daphne didn't bother to hide things from her.

Tracy followed her to the door with the intent to calm her down, but when she saw the sign she sighed and then read it out loud, "1st year, READING ROOM, (Teachers and Prefects welcome) Talking is absolutely NOT WELCOME. If you don't like it, FIND ANOTHER ROOM."

Daphne turned back to the room at large still glaring, and still holding her wand.

Everyone stayed frozen.

Except Hermione who grabbed her books and Blaise' hand and headed for the door. Everyone could hear them in the next room casting cleaning charms and setting their books out.

Harriet and Draco looked at each other. They knew they'd talk a bit while they were studying, and quite a bit once they were done. They both nodded toward the door, and left.

As they approached the next room Hermione was trying to get a sticking charm to hold a plaque on the door. It read, "1st year study and tutoring room. Prefects and tutors welcome. Flirting and snogging not welcome."

Blaise looked amused.

Other than (hopefully) keeping Pansy polite the only effect Harriet could think of for that prohibition was keeping upperclassmen from trying to impress each other by 'spending time tutoring the first years,'

Which is exactly what Harriet thought Hermione had been doing. Blaise either thought so too, or had some principled objection to _not_ flirting.

Draco went in anyway. Harriet followed him. The Hufflepuffs gradually filtered in.

An hour or two later when Draco was mid rant about the problems of keeping a flock of peafowl AND pythons in the same yard Hermione cleared her throat, stalked over and muttered, "are you sure you two aren't flirting?"

"Quite sure," said Draco, somehow not being at a loss for words in spite of being interrupted mid-sentence.

"Hermione, we're cousins," said Harriet, "well, almost."

"Look," said Draco, "even if … well anyway, I bet you a galleon we don't marry each other."

Hermione considered the value of a galleon, "Wait," she said, "how would you ever collect on that?"

Draco's eyebrow twitched, "alright, if you prefer me to say it that way, if I, Draco Malfoy, ever marry Harriet Matirni, I will pay you a galleon, for seeing the future so clearly and attempting to inform me."

Hermione blinked, "You're serious," she said.

"Quite serious," said Draco.

"Then what _are _you to doing?"

"Cultural research," said Draco at the same time Harriet said, "Economic research."

Hermione looked between them, "slitherins… Are slitherins known for being able to lie to themselves as well as they lie to each other?"

"No," said Draco, "That trait is reserved to cult leaders, such as Gellert Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and You-know-who."

"Also computer salesmen," muttered Harriet.

"What?" said Hermione.

"Oh it's a stupid joke: What's the difference between a computer salesman and a used car salesman?"

"So tell me," said Hermione.

"The used car salesman knows when he's lying," said Harriet. _And in certain circles the joke is told with substitute fake and real fortune tellers._

"Ew," said Hermione, "Oh, ew,"

Draco made a 'run along' gesture and she left, seemingly in a daze. He went back to explaining about the feeding habits of baby pythons.

...

By the end of the month one or two of the other Gryffindors had followed Ron or Hermione and carried word to the others. It didn't take long for the rooms to be known as 'Daphne's room' and 'Hermione's room', which was somewhat ironic, given that both girls were slightly more likely to be found in the library.

Ron tended to set up in Hermione's room. He didn't need to talk much during a game but both Blaise and Pansy liked to talk, and as long as they kept it down no one seemed to mind.

**{End Chapter 11}**

_Yes, 2 short sections this time. The next two will be longer than average._

_After writing this, it was pointed out that in cannon the Four Points charm causes the caster__'s wand to point North. Sorry. I have not changed it, though I may later. _

_Given that the four points charm is possible, it seems to me that searching spells ought to be possible. A spell as powerful as what _I portray might only work for short distances or for high level casters. _A very low power version of the spell would almost certainly exist, but it would be limited to items that are already enchanted with a tracking charm. And another version must also exist that will search by tissue sample._

_I offer as proof of my assessment of what spells should be possible and would almost certainly have been invented: the implied mechanics of the underage wand trace. And Mrs. Weasley__'s circumstance clock._

_Of course all these might be disrupted in unexpected ways by unplotable wards._


	12. Library

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Library**

True to his word, the headmaster sent Harriet a note, requesting that she come to his office directly after lunch. She wrote most of a note asking Professor Snape if he would mind being there also before she realised that perhaps that would imply she didn't feel confident without an adult family member present. Which was not the message she wanted to send. So she tore it up and started over, this time explaining that she _didn__'t _trust the headmaster, but thought he wouldn't try anything too drastic if she had a witness. And perhaps he could recommend someone, she'd thought of Draco, Tonks, Daphne, and Blaise, and each had strengths and weaknesses, and her major concern with Tonks was that she had classes at the time when the appointment was intended to be.

Professor Snape pulled her aside between classes and waved her note in her face, "What exactly is this supposed to mean?"

Harriet shrugged, "after the troll, and a couple other things, I don't trust him."

"Ah," he said, "but you know he could pull you out of class just as easily as I can."

"Well yeah,"

"And that while you're here he could do anything he wanted to you, given a reason that he valued enough to put forth the effort."

"Yes,"

"And the fact that he has not done so suggests that he has no reason to?"

"No reason to, yet," said Harriet.

"You're too much like you're cousin," said Snape, "if you'd been smart you'd have both gone to the same school and been bodyguard to each other."

Harriet ground her teeth, "that was considered I'm sure, and chosen against, perhaps because my family has a history of bad luck when too many eggs are in the same basket."

Snape's eyes widened and he straightened and stared across the hall. Finally he looked down again and growled, "What do you want?"

"I want you to advise me who has the least to fear from the headmaster, and the most to gain, or to keep, helping me by providing an extra witness both of what the two of us say to each other, and that neither of us try anything regrettable."

"If you want eidetic memory, have you considered checking with the ravenclaws?"

"I'd also like someone who was suspicious enough of him or both of us to pay attention," said Harriet.

"Have you considered Hermione Granger,"

Harriet blinked, then nodded, "she might be best, half the insight of Blaise or Draco, but open-minded enough to see what's there not what Draco's father might have primed him to see."

Snape sneered, actually, it might have been the closest she'd seen to a real smile.

"There is one trait you haven't asked for, that you ought to have considered."

"What's that sir?"

He shook his head, "So far I've met only one person with the trait, though perhaps your cousin also possess it. But we won't speak of it here."

"Who sir?"

"You-know-who, had the trait. But he had many others that weren't as helpful, to him or anyone else."

Harriet realised that whatever Snape was talking about either had nothing to do with her, so she could ignore it, or had everything to do with her but that he was refusing to tell her about it anyway and listening to him riddle around about it would drive her crazy… or turn her ravenclaw, which might be the same thing. Probably whatever he was talking about had more to do with him than with anyone else.

"Is there anyone else that you'd suggest I consider?"

"Are there any other traits that you want me to take into account?"

Harriet shrugged, "Are there any other traits I ought to ask you to take into account?"

He smirked, "Do you know what the meeting is intended to be about?"

Harriet shook her head and sighed, "at least for regular classes I'm told what to study before I arrive."

"Quite," he said, "well then I'm afraid I can't be further use to you."

"Thanks anyway," she said, "actually I mean thanks for the suggestions."

He nodded.

"Actually," she frowned, "I mean thanks in general,"

He blinked and his face hardened, "You don't know me near well enough to mean something like that."

"Wha?"

"You should _only _say things that you don't mean, when you know exactly what you do mean by saying them." He turned and stalked away.

_Well yes, but__… What?_

...

Hermione did consent to come, and the meeting with the Headmaster was not nearly so bewildering as the meeting with her godfather had just been.

The headmaster just presented her with a piece of parchment that stated she was allowed to browse the part of the restricted section that dealt with defence related subjects, and read such books at one of the tables _in_ the restricted section, but was not allowed to carry them outside the restricted section, and she was required to re-shelve them properly when she was done with each.

Hermione was extremely jealous, but true to her word she said nothing.

"You _are _allowed to take notes," said the headmaster, "which you will allow your head of house to review before you send them outside the castle or show them to your friends."

"Yes, sir," said Harriet.

"If you decide that you are not willing to continue this exercise, it is your responsibility to decide for yourself when to stop. That is something that adults do, they take the responsibility to put down books when they realise they aren't ready for them, or may never be ready for them. They quit jobs and they refuse orders (as politely and reasonably as they can manage) when they realise that it would be morally wrong for them to continue."

"Yes sir," said Harriet.

"So I'm suggesting, no, I'm ordering you, to put down and put back any book that you realise contains information you do not want to know. Feel free to take notes on the book and how to find it again in case you someday believe your cousin or someone else needs information it contains. I further order you to come to me, or your head of house, and notify your cousin, if you decide that this task isn't one that you can handle, or one that you no longer wish to be the sort of person who would make the sorts of sacrifices required to continue."

"Yes sir," said Harriet.

"I further recommend that you establish a method to determine whether you're keeping up with your school related studies well enough that you may continue, and more to the point how much of your time you can afford to devote to this task."

"Yes sir," said Harriet.

"I think that's all," said the Headmaster, "are there any questions?"

"No," said Harriet, "well, yes, I understand that this is more about making sure Harry is aware of what books are here than it is about copying all the useful things out of them to send to him. But … what exactly are the restrictions of what I can and can't copy out, or even take notes of or mention?"

"There are many different reasons why books get placed in the restricted section instead of the general section," said the Headmaster, "I've only given you access to the defence section, so most of what you'll be seeing and wishing you weren't will be dark spells, you'll want to give him information about how to recognise them, and how to block them and how to counter them. I don't want you sharing knowledge with him or with anyone else, of how to cast them, in fact that information is often not in the books. Do you understand?"

"I'm not sure," said Harriet.

"Sometimes it's easier to recognise than to define, like bullying, or accusing someone of bullying, or blackmailing them with the threat of accusing them of bullying. Defining a dark art is different than instructing in it, though a candidate practitioner will find both to be helpful and interesting. Knowing what bullying is and calling someone a bully are not generally a means of bullying, or even gossip, but every once in a while they can be. Telling someone how you were bullied might be an accusation in some circumstances, or it might be a lecture in proper method in another."

"I see," said Hermione.

Harriet glanced at her confused.

"It's like this," said Hermione, "if I was a bully and you knew it, and you told me to stop or you'd tell, that wouldn't be blackmail, you're helping the one I've been bullying, if you tell me to do something else for you, or you'll tell, that is blackmail, one benefits a victim with the peace they deserve the other benefits you for no reason except that you were in the right place at the right time to see something. One is intended to convince the bully to be nice, the other is to scare the bully into doing other things that they probably shouldn't or wouldn't do otherwise."

"Right," said Harriet, "But what does it have to do with the books?"

"What I'm trying to say," said the headmaster, "is that it may be hard to define, but you'll figure out very quickly what is and isn't meant to be restricted information."

"What I'm trying to say," said Hermione, "is that the bullying and blackmail example isn't a good one, it's easy to define blackmail."

"But not so easy to define bullying," said the Headmaster, "It's easy to say that assault and name calling cross the line, it's another to say that exploding snap and quidditch jeers are not."

"A lot of the jeers last quidditch game were bullying," said Hermione, "at least … if they'd been aimed at me."

"Agreed," said the Headmaster, "but to the older students, and the better players, take them somewhat as complements, if you can believe it."

Hermione shivered.

"Any other questions?" said the Headmaster.

"Not yet," said Harriet.

"Umm," said Hermione, "This is to help Harry Potter, who isn't going to school here?"

"Pretty much," said the Headmaster.

"I wish I could help," said Hermione.

"I wish you and Padma and Daphne could help," said Harriet.

"And if I permitted that, Parvati and Tracy would want to help, and then all the pupils would expect access to the whole restricted section. Soon there would be nothing particularly restricted about it, and all the parents would be writing me and the ministry, wanting this or that awful book to be banned from being sold or owned or left in a library where any given child or budding dark lord might come across it," said the Headmaster, "Trust me, restricting access to books is better than banning them. Even if it's a bit challenging to decide who to allow among the adults who should know better, and a few children who have … parents concerned with more pressing matters than their children's sanity."

Both girls nodded.

"That being said," continued the headmaster, "I expect there _are_ ways that you can help," said the Headmaster, "but this part is best left to as few people as possible and still get the job finished."

_I wonder_, thought Harriet, _if he has some useful deadline by which this ought to be finished. And if there is, whether he__'d tell me about it, or if he's more concerned in making sure that I don't feel pressured to read too fast and neglect my school work. Or that he doesn't offend Hermione's sensibilities._

_Bringing her might have been the wrong choice if it means that he__'s not giving me all the information that I need in order to help Heir Potter prepare for his future._

_Or perhaps it made him be extra careful about protecting, or at least warning, a twelve year old what to be careful of in a library._

_Perhaps Hermione would turn out to be exactly the right choice of who to bring along to make sure he gave enough advice to keep me safe from __… whatever it was that made some of the books 'restricted.'_

_Or perhaps it would turn out that I was already prepared for that, what between living in a circus, between knowing how to curse like a roustabout and not to do so when company was about. How to make all of mother__'s herbal remedies, and what each of them was for._

"Is that all for now Headmaster?" said Harriet.

"Yes, I suppose." He said, "Come back any time."

Hermione shivered.

"Come on Hermione, Let's get out of here."

"Alright," said Hermione, and they left.

"Hermione," said Harriet as they made their way by implicit agreement, not to the library but back toward the grand staircase, and therefore, down to the first year study room.

"Yeah?" said Hermione.

"I'm not certain that— I mean, I'm almost certain that there is as much that Harry Potter needs to know from the non-restricted section as there is from the restricted section."

"Sure," said Hermione, "but the non-restricted section is probably about the same as what he has at his school. You did say he was going to a magical school somewhere, just not here?"

"That's what I've been told," said Harriet, for some reason suddenly becoming very aware of how little she knew about what Harry Potter was really up to, and her excruciating desire never to lie to Hermione Granger. Lying to Hermione would be like lying to Padma, or lying in a book and publishing it.

That sounded like a useful ward to wear around, making people want to never lie to you. Of course an area effect spell like that would probably affect you also, and one could grow dependant on it, forgetting how to think for one's self to make sure what people were telling you even made sense. But still a useful thought experiment. And if it were possible, it would be a fun little trick to use against your enemies if they ever invited you to a press conference.

"So what you're saying," said Hermione, "is that if ninety percent of the general section of the library is the same, the last ten percent could be enough to matter, and that I could help by reading it all and making note of anything Harry could use to defend himself."

"I was thinking more along the lines of reading all the titles and tables of contents," said Harriet, "and it's not just defending himself from spells, it's also understanding wizarding culture enough that he doesn't make the same stupid mistakes that you and I and other muggleborn and muggle raised children are also likely to be making from not knowing our way around."

"Right," said Hermione, "but the general section is _huge._"

"Right," said Harriet.

"All the more reason for Padma to help," said Hermione.

"You know Padma?"

"Of course, Parvati introduced us the first time she came to learn about making friends with unicorns, Though I couldn't quite tell if Parvati was introducing me to make sure Padma thought that I was Parvati's friend first. Or if Parvati was trying to make sure Padma had at least one friend in the club and would keep on coming."

"I think," said Harriet, "that if Parvati knew all the things that Parvati wants, she'd either go insane, or be in slytherin."

Hermione giggled.

"Which is an odd thing to think," said Harriet, "It feels like I thought something similar about myself recently, but I think it was about ravenclaw."

"If you and I manage to keep up with Padma, assuming Padma wants to help, I suggest we shall consider ourselves honorary ravenclaws."

"If you keep helping me keep the Headmaster on his toes, I suggest that I will probably start thinking of you as an honorary slytherin,"

"Ew," said Hermione.

"See," said Harriet, "you're too honourable by half for most right minded people to be able to keep hold of a desire to lie to you."

"Umm," said Hermione, "I _think _you mean that as a compliment, but it comes out sounding like, 'I'm Harriet, and I'm a compulsive liar, but you've got some sort of unicorn magic or something and it makes me feel pretty and I'm getting addicted to not lying when you're around.'"

Harriet shivered, "Umm Hermione, Please don't say it like that. But umm, I've worked since I was four, not because my family is cruel and abusive and all that, but when you live around the same place where your parents and aunts and uncles work, you sort of get the feeling about all the fun and exciting things you could be helping with and improving your skills at."

"That … makes sense," said Hermione wistfully.

"Other than keeping trash picked up and clients closely monitored enough that they didn't try to sneak where they didn't belong, the two things I actually could help with were cooking…"

"And?" said Hermione stopped and turned to her.

"And acting," said Harriet.

Hermione stared at her for several seconds, then smirked oddly, "Not a compulsive liar, just a professional one?"

"Exactly," said Harriet, "And I'm not certain how many different ways I started trying to use my accidental magic to make my acting better. But I still know the difference between lying and being in character."

"Good," said Hermione with smile that was probably meant as encouraging, but it was a bit condescending too.

"What I was trying to say earlier," said Harriet, "Is not that I only have a sense of truth when around you, but that I'm so used to being around people and accepting what they say as what they _must _say to stay in character, that I forget to try to differentiate what is real for them from what is real for everyone. When I start to repeat what they've told me to you, instead of wanting to say, 'yes,' because so-and-so told me 'yes,' I think again and realise, 'no,' because so and so told me, 'yes,' and that does mean 'yes, but only in the small range of circumstances that so-and-so was talking about,' and Hermione doesn't even know so-and-so let alone know what those circumstances were."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "I'm not sure whether to be impressed or intrigued that you seem convinced of what you're talking about, or shudder at how convoluted your mind must be to even hold that information, regardless of how poorly it comes out when you try to explain."

Harriet blinked, "When Shakespeare wrote what he did, 'all the world's a stage and we are but actors on it,' I'm not sure if he was making a point about history, or about what one must do to one's brain to be a good actress, and the side effects it has on an actress when she's off the stage and trying to not lie even though others give bad information sometimes."

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it, then smirked, "lets go read it again and decide," said Hermione.

"Alright," said Harriet, "Your Shakespeare or mine."

Hermione looked around, and narrowed her eyes, "Your copy may be closer."

"Come on," said Harriet and led the way downstairs.

...

All the world's a stage,  
And all the men and women merely players.  
They have their exits and their entrances,  
And one man in his time plays many parts,  
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,  
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.  
Then, the whining school-boy with his satchel  
And shining morning face, creeping like a snail  
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,  
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad  
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier,  
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,  
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,  
Seeking the bubble reputation  
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice,  
In fair round belly, with a good capon lined,  
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,  
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,  
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts  
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,  
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,  
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide  
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,  
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes  
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,  
That ends this strange eventful history,  
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,  
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.  
(said by Jacques in Act II Scene VII of As you Like it, by William Shakespeare)

...

"It's not what I was thinking of," said Harriet, "Lets try Thomas Heywood,"

Hermione watched her cross back to the book shelf and take down her copy of "The Fifteenth Century, in Plays that Stood the Tests of Time."

...

After several minutes of flipping all Harriet could find was:

"The world's a theatre, the earth a stage  
Which God and Nature do with actors fill."

"It's from a piece called, 'Apology for Actors,' It _is _by Thomas Heywood,"

But Hermione didn't congratulate her for remembering that part. In fact Hermione didn't even respond.

When Harriet looked up Hermione was laying on her bed flipping through another book, as if she'd just gotten it from the night stand.

Then Harriet saw what book it was.

"Don't touch that," said Harriet.

Hermione looked up startled and a bit offended. And perhaps a bit apologetic.

"Sorry," said Harriet, "it was my only birthday present, I … it's rare, probably irreplaceable, not just as a present but at all. Sorry, you can read it, just … you might be the only person I'd trust touching it, and that includes Padma."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Alright, I understand."

"Thanks," said Harriet.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask first," said Hermione.

Harriet nodded.

Hermione seemed to notice that the acknowledgement she'd received was even less an approximation of 'you're forgiven' than what Hermione had said. She didn't respond aloud, but instead flipped back a page and began to read aloud:

...  
"All creation is but a theatre, and all the earth a stage.  
Every being acts a part, men thus, women thus, gods and daemons thus and thus.  
Every horse and dog will show their character, when they are given room to show any mettle but that which is called forth by the firm hand of man.

When you act, you are teacher and prophet and supplicant to your audience, who may feed you for your service. You are witness and worshipper to your god, who created in man the ability to speak, and to sing, and to lie, and to soliloquise, and to satire, (which is pointing to a truth too long forgotten by lying about it differently than society has become accustomed to lying about it.)

When you act, you must tell the truth, deep truths about the fallen state of man, the depraved state of the world, or the love of god and of good, and by those loves and with whose help the world can be improved.

When you act, you must tell the truth, the shallow truths of who your character is, or was, or shall be, were your character to ever exist, or ever to meet the other characters.

When you act, others act with you, in their mouths are words that would be lies if they were not on the stage.

When you act, you listen to your character, and you listen to the characters around you, those lies said, and the deeper truth that they mean.

For if you can hear the deeper truth, then you can bear witness to it. And if you bear witness to it, your audience may also see, and hear, and understand.

And when they understand, they will know the truth, and love the good, and the truth perhaps can set them free.

...

When you act, you must tell the truth, by lying. And thereby you can change the world.

Because man is a perverse creature, and when the prophets of old tried to change the world by telling the truth, they were executed for lying.

...

Go out and love the truth.  
Go out and lie.  
Go out and save the world."

...

Hermione finished and looked up.

Harriet stared at her.

"Is that what you were trying to say?"

"That is six times as much as what I was trying to say, and twice as much as everything I've been trying to figure out how to even think about for the last week," said Harriet coming over, "Where did you find it?"

"Appendix Gamma, _On acting,_ by Hobart Prince (or _Words to Young Actors and Old Politicians_.)"

"I haven't gotten that far," said Harriet, "I want to read it again before I actually say I agree with it."

Hermione snorted, "I imagine so. Where did you get this?"

"My birthday," said Harriet, my _fake _birthday.

"No, I mean, who gave it to you?"

"My godfather, Severus Snape. Apparently Hobart was an relative of his or something."

"That explains a lot," said Hermione.

"What do you mean?"

"Two things, is he the sort of godfather who would give an irreplaceable book to a first year?"

"Umm,"

"I didn't think so," said Hermione, "Nor is he the 'perfect teacher' sort that a headmaster as kind and benevolent and heroic as our headmaster's public image, would inflict on students, especially young nervous students like Neville Longbottom, or naive and inexperienced students like… well, all the muggleborn except you and I and the Patils."

There was something off about hearing Hermione say 'our headmaster's public image,' and Harriet didn't think she were responsible for the change. Perhaps something she'd said had allowed Hermione to let her see the change though.

"The Patils aren't muggleborn, just foreign."

"That strengthens my point."

"OK, but what do you think it means?"

"I think it means that there is something more going on, something big, or many somethings (it's hard to tell, if you admit blackmail as a possible motive, a topic that perhaps sprang too easily to our headmaster's lips) something so big that Snape is teaching instead of doing something much more lucrative and less demanding, Dumbledore is likewise either letting him or _making_ him stay here and teach.

Harriet nodded, and sat down, as if it would help her sudden feeling of vertigo, in the hall outside of the headmaster's office she'd felt the sudden reality that her parents could lie to her, would lie to her if they were acting a part, or wanted her to be acting a part. And now here was Hermione, saying, no _proving_ that her godfather was also playing a part. That most of what she knew about him was just a part he was playing, and perhaps playing badly. But he was trying, and Hermione was implying it was costing him _much_ in money and perhaps in … fame.

"How long _has_ he been potions master?" said Harriet.

Hermione frowned, "More recently than ten or twelve years ago, but I don't remember exactly how long."

"It was rhetorical," said Harriet, "How can you 'remember' even that much?"

"Hogwarts a history," said Hermione, "You should read it,"

"Still reading it," said Harriet, "and I don't think the edition the Headmaster gave me is that recent."

"You can read the end of mine when you finish yours," said Hermione.

"Cool, thanks," said Harriet, "What happened ten or twelve years ago that would allow or force either one to…"

"Blackmail the other?" suggested Hermione.

"Yeah,"

"I'm not sure, ten years ago is about when the war ended," said Hermione.

**{End Chapter 12}**


	13. Research

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters WOULD have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Research**

As soon as Harriet realised the amount of time it would take to read all of the restricted section, or even just the area set aside to defence topics, she decided that she needed to pace herself, and she needed to invent or learn better study techniques both for her school studies, and for her skimming in the library.

And even more importantly she didn't have time to run the riding clubs, it _had _turned into three interlocking clubs, She'd already turned the thestral riders over to Tonks, when it turned out that she couldn't see them, or not well, mostly out of the corner of her eye, and not reliably then. But now she turned over the hippogriffs to Tonks also, and tried to determine the oldest, or most enthusiastic, or most knowledgeable (preferably all three) member to turn over the unicorn riders to. She didn't really see a good candidate but Hermione suggested Parvati and Lavender as a team, and that worked, mostly. Parvati could do anything on horseback, even without a saddle. And that translated to a certain kind of respect. And with Lavender backing her up with administration, things seemed to go well. Draco was a bit annoyed that she hadn't turned the club over to him. And Padma was annoyed that she hadn't been asked to be Parvati's behind the scenes person. Harriet sighed and told each of them there was a different favour she'd rather ask them for, and to come meet with her and Hermione after supper, in Hermione's tutoring room.

Of course, then she had to notify Hermione to meet in the tutoring room, instead of in the library.

.

"So, what's this all about," said Draco, taking in the fact that he was in a room with three muggleborn girls.

"This," said Harriet "is about Harry Potter. He got the Headmaster to grant me, unrestricted access in and out of the defence related restricted stacks. But I have to let his agent check my notes before I send them to Potter, or let any of the rest of you see them."

"Please tell me the agent in question is NOT the defence professor," said Draco.

"It's not," said Harriet, "but good call, he gives me the creeps."

"So are we allowed in on your coat tails or something," said Padma.

"Unfortunately not," said Harriet, "The reason you're here is that Hermione pointed out, as Harry hinted, and Draco also told me but I didn't understand immediately, there's a whole lot of things that a wizard raised by squibs might not know, that a pure blood who wasn't orphaned would already know. Harry wants a report what types of magic are out there, what each is generally considered to be capable of, what on average each is generally used for, and the name of one or two introductory works for each and the names of one or two advanced works or reference works on each. As muggle and squib raised witches, you and Hermione will be better able to understand what Harry doesn't know and will want to be informed of than Draco or Daphne will."

Padma nodded.

"You two will also likely get the same benefit of knowing what all is out there that Harry and I hope to get." Explained Harriet, "so I'm hoping that you'll help Hermione read, I'm not sure here, but you two will probably figure out some system, all the tables of contents and if the book is interesting, make note of its title, and what subjects it looks interesting in. And whether it appears to be introductory or advanced."

Padma glanced at Hermione, then back at Harriet, "You want us to read and catalogue the library."

Harriet closed her eyes and thought about what was on catalogue cards.

"That's exactly what we're doing," said Hermione, "I noticed right away that there was no catalogue, I didn't think that maybe someone needed to teach the magical world how to make one."

"Point of order," said Draco, "What exactly do you mean by catalogue?"

"It's a … well now they're often on computers but originally they were on cards in drawers, you think of a subject that you're interested in, say the history of transfiguration 1930s, you look it up under h for history, and then inside history you find 1930s, and then inside 1930s you check to see if any of the books are about transfiguration, or you can look the other way look under T for transfiguration and see if there are any under history, or just were first published in the 1930s or early 1940s, as you do you copy out the names of all the books that look like what you want, and where in the library they are, some might be under history, some might be under transfiguration, and some might be under I don't know frogs or whatever the transfigurations are about."

"Why not go to each of those sections and just look?" said Draco.

"Because, first of all, Frogs isn't a place I'd normally look for a book on transfiguration, or the 1930s," said Padma, "Second because a huge number of the books in the library don't have their titles showing on their spines anymore, some not on their covers either. and last and most important, flipping one card over for every book you _don't_ want, is a lot faster than taking down a book, flipping to its title page to see its title, flipping to the table of contents to see what its subject actually is, deciding if it's actually what you're looking for, summoning up the will power not to read it right away, and then figuring out how to fit it back on the shelf where all of the books next to it have decided to lay down into its place."

"But you're going to have to do that anyway," said Draco, "or that's what it sounds like you're planning on doing."

"We are planning that," said Padma, "we're planning on doing it _once_, so that no one has to do it again."

"Oh," said Draco, "like inventing the four points charm except for libraries,"

Draco raised an eyebrow at all the looks of amazement they were all giving him, "the four points doesn't work in libraries unless there is only a single book that matches what you're looking for. Didn't you ever try it, or even think of trying it? Merlin, one would think you don't know you're witches yet."

"Perhaps," said Hermione, "instead of complaining about their life philosophies you should teach the four points charm."

"Fine," said Draco, drawing his wand and laying it flat on his open palm, "Point me, Hermione Granger, first of her line."

The wand spun and pointed at Hermione.

"Simple no?" he said, "you have to sort of think about what you want it to find and lead you to, and it's not really all that useful if you're running or chasing someone, because you don't want to drop your wand, but," he shrugged, "it will find most things that you can think of clearly enough and name in a way that it will know what to find. Things get complicated when things are above or below you, but that just requires enough power for it to sort of tip up or down in your hand, you don't even need to see it rise, you can usually feel it trying to tip and that can be enough, as long as you explain what you feel to your friends because they might not be able to see the difference unless you cast with a lot of power. There's a third year charm that turns a piece of wood or straw into a sort of compass the same way, but it is also a hover charm, that's what I'd use if I had to show everyone where to go, and didn't want to question what I'd felt my wand trying to do, and was running through the woods in the dark, over rough ground, and didn't want to stop to cast the four points, or risk dropping my wand, or whatever. But I can't do that one yet. But now that I can do a hover charm I might could learn it."

Padma stared at him, and then at Hermione, "did that little speech remind you of anyone."

"Not really," said Hermione.

Harriet concentrated on her wand, "do you cast and then let go really fast, or do you let go first and then cast."

"I've seen it both ways," said Draco, "and I've seen people cast and hold onto their wand and then let the pressure of the wand trying to turn guide them which way to point it until it stops trying to turn. Which works, I suppose, and might be better for up and down sorts of points, such as if you actually thought it would work in a library. But it looks totally fake, and no one would believe you."

"Point me, Blaise Zabini," said Hermione, and let go of her wand, a bit too quickly, it spun in a lazy spiral as it fell to the floor.

"Oh," said Draco, and laid his wand on the table, "It's also possible like this," he put the second knuckle of his middle finger lightly near the centre of his wand, "Point me, Padma Patil." The wand spun slightly and made a scratching sound on the table." Draco picked up his finger, the wand spun a little faster, and then stopped before it had turned all the way to Padma, it was evident that the spell had stopped functioning when Draco's finger had lost contact with the wand.

Hermione nodded picked up her wand and held her hand flat, and cast the same as before. This time the wand spun and pointed in a stable direction. Hermione turned her hand under it and it continued to point in the same direction.

"Downstairs I believe," said Hermione.

"Yeah, that's roughly the direction of slytherin common room," said Draco.

"Is slytherin not … under the castle?" said Padma.

"Sort of," said Draco, "we have skylights under the lake."

"Huh," said Padma and turned to Harriet, "you never told me that."

Harriet shrugged, "It never came up."

Padma shrugged, "And I guess the lake sort of comes inside the castle where the first year docks are." She extended her left hand in an upward somewhat diagonal direction, and her right hand out flat with her wand on it, "Point me, Patil Parvati."

The wand spun, she blinked and grasped it more firmly and tilted it upward until it almost matched her other pointing finger.

"Not quite accurate but close enough," she said, then frowned, "actually," she moved her left hand down and slightly across to point in the same direction as the wand, "Now I'm not sure."

"When you were concentrating on following your wand, your left hand moved with your shoulder as you turned around and looked up," said Draco, "I couldn't say for sure, but I think you ended up pointing in the same direction as where you pointed originally."

"Oh," said Padma and shrugged.

"So you're guessing Gryffindor tower?"

"I'm not sure where that is from here," said Padma, "but I've always known where to find Parvati, even in a noisy crowd."

"Twin magic," said Draco, "It's in books at times but I always wondered if it was real."

"I'm not sure," said Padma, "It might just be an accidental magic or two that get used so much that it sort of ends up as reliable. Sort of like, Harriet's."

Padma stopped and looked at Harriet. Harriet glared at her and shook her head.

"I guess she'll tell you about that when she's ready," Padma shrugged, "Anyway what I'm trying to say is that Parvati seems to think the Weasley twins do a whole different set of magic together than what we do. And therefore it's habitual accidental magic, perhaps with exceptionally compatible magical cores, not some sort of 'twins always get this magic,' group of charms."

"Ah, I see," said Draco, and turned to Harriet, "do you want to tell us what she was thinking of, or a part of it?"

"I can sometimes steer my hawk, Hedwig, or call her to me," said Harriet.

"Ah," said Draco, "that's somewhat common for familiars. And I read a book where this creepy mean lord advisor told the king to kill one of his twin sons because one would be no more than the familiar of the other, and it would confuse and upset the populace, but really he wanted to steal one of the twins and hide it away and train it to be the usurper someday."

Padma said, "Let's move on. So we need a catalogue, because 'point me' err the four points charm doesn't work for what we usually need, and it especially doesn't work for what we want to offer Harry Potter. Shall we build The Catalogue first, and worry later about finding the books we want to report to Harry, or sort of work on both at once?"

"I'm not sure," said Hermione, "I'm thinking both at once, What we're giving Harry is just a list of subjects available and some hints at good books in each category, four times out of five he may decide to read a book he can get his hands on in his own school, not owl order a fifty year old book that happens to be what's available here to us."

"Are you in charge here?" Padma asked.

"Sort of," said Hermione, "well, no not necessarily I just happened to be there when Harriet realised the need and … suggested that we could do the same for the main library that she has to do alone in the restricted section. You're point is excellent about turning the project into a real catalogue instead of just a list of subjects that ought to be in the catalogue. The suggestion was that Daphne could help us too, though, not Draco."

"Ah ha," said Padma.

"So what am I here for?" said Draco.

"Because I have to do more than just catalogue books by their subject," said Harriet, "I'm supposed to scan them for defence spells, and perhaps for dark spells that he needs to be able to recognise and defend against."

"And?" said Draco.

"And you seem to only need to read your books once, and I generally need to three times, and if I only needed to read mine once, I'd have more time to devote to Harry's research."

"Ah," said Draco, "I may not be the only one in the school who can teach you those skills, but perhaps I've—" he glanced at the other two girls who were looking at Harriet askance, "Perhaps I'm the one who can be most easily spared from the library catalogue project."

"It's not _only_ that," said Harriet, "Padma is probably the best of anyone I know at _studying_, and Hermione is good at reading and the best at helping, which sometimes only works after a teacher has taught most of it, she can figure out very quickly what you didn't understand and re-explain that part fairly well. But she doesn't always … _helping _isn't the same as _teaching_, and different pupils don't all always learn best from the same teacher, and I already know I generally learn well from you. And that whatever it is you do, you seem to do it on purpose."

"Ah," said Draco, "yes, there is a difference between running well because someone taught you, and running well because for whatever reason you invented the right way by accident when you first tried to run."

He looked at the other two, "And you're probably right. Hermione, I've noticed that you don't always understanding why most don't learn as easily as you do, which probably does imply that you instinctively go about studying in an optimised or nearly optimised manner. Padma, I don't know you well enough to guess, but I see you hold your tongue, after people finish talking, and I imagine that you're taking the time to understand what they've said, before you try to respond. I assume you do the same for books."

Padma nodded, "a lot of people don't _think_."

Draco nodded, "I've been trained to memorise and mark things for further thought in the first pass, and to think or re-attempt to understand, in the second pass. It may look like I read a book only once and never again, but in effect I read each chapter or section three times instead of the whole book. Of course I know what I'm skimming for on the first pass, and that is an understanding of the outline of what I'll be trying hardest to learn and memorise on the second pass. After I take time to understand all the theory, I only have to skim for details that are more arbitrary but necessary for practical use."

"Interesting," said Padma.

Hermione rubbed her head.

"I imagine my method takes about as much time as what I infer your habits are, Padma."

Padma shrugged, "I wouldn't want to race to find out, that would mess up the point of reading in the first place. I can read faster and I'd be tempted to think less often and for shorter periods."

Draco nodded, "I also doubt I have the discipline not to just skim straight through, if we were ostensibly racing. And even if we agreed that it wasn't a race, more of an experiment to see who could study a book more quickly and learn the most from it, there would still be the temptation."

Padma nodded, "Now that's settled, what's the deal with the other girl you mentioned?"

"Daphne Greengrass," said Hermione, and looked at Harriet.

Harriet shrugged.

"She'll be in charge if you let her," said Draco, "and she'll be excellent at skimming and note taking and certain other things, and her handwriting is better than Harriet's, I can't really say how it compares to either of yours. Have you considered how Madam Pince will view your little project?"

"I didn't see the need to explain it before," said Hermione, "now I'm not sure how much point there would be to proceed unless we _do _tell her."

"Convince Daphne that you think the project is big enough that you need an administrator, and that you're afraid the school won't accept this advanced muggle method or even listen to what it is for, unless a pure-blood is championing it, perhaps even claiming it as her own."

"Is the prejudice and conservatism really that bad?" said Hermione.

"Yes," sighed Harriet.

"Compared to India, Britain has no idea what conservatism is," said Padma, "which is why even a princess like Mum would choose to emigrate here. But anyway, yes, we want a spokeswoman to keep Madam Pince trying to appease us, not the other way around."

"I can't believe this," said Hermione, "You're all talking this way about how people will act to us, vs. How people will act to us with Daphne. Even after the last war was fought over blood purism? And blood purism lost?"

"The last war _wasn't _about blood purism," said Draco, "it was about property rights, specifically about the right to ward your own real estate without a permit, listing those wards on an effect by effect basis, and about whether Batty Crouch was an idiot or a power hungry madman. The dark lord was a half blood, and mostly a figurehead, and most of his followers were half bloods."

"Barty Crouch?" whispered Hermione, "but… how … huh?"

"This seems a familiar conundrum," said Padma, "Aren't all civil wars about completely different things, depending on which side you ask?"

"Sort of?" said Harriet.

"If the dark lord and company were half bloods, how did the movement become associated with pure bloods?"

"Most of them were half bloods who … were both rich enough and powerful enough to more than qualify for full pureblood status as soon as they'd acquired the requisite number of qualifying generations. Most were those who would qualify in the next generation. I believe the muggle term is 'new money.'"

"So this wasn't about whether purebloods could be in charge as usual, it was about how difficult it was for new purebloods to start acting like old purebloods?"

"Precisely," said Draco, "but the proposed new restrictions would affect old purebloods too, they didn't want the restrictions passed either, and they sympathised with the half bloods, but very few cared to _fight _for it. When you have two or three family estates, you don't really mind waiting a year or three for permission to set up wards on a fourth, because you can live safely in one of your other estates. But when you qualify as a new pureblood everyone suddenly knows a general idea of your families assets, waiting three years while robbers plot to burglarise your house, can't be a comfortable feeling."

"Well no," said Hermione, "but it can't be that bad, I mean, muggles make do with burglar alarms and things."

"Banks don't make do with _just _burglar alarms," said Draco, "can all three of you cast a shield charm?"

"Yes," they all said, "the simple one."

"How about the solid shield?"

"That's 'Protego Fianto Duri'?" said Hermione.

Draco nodded, and demonstrated the wand motion. "It's more difficult to maintain but blocks objects as well as spells."

When they all had it down, he said "Can you all cast the exploding curse?"

They all shook their heads, no.

"A demonstration then. I want you all to cast the solid shield as strongly as you can after you see or hear that I've cast."

They all nodded and readied their wands.

Draco spun and said still at conversational volume, but with steely determination in his voice, "Diffindo! Protego Fianto Duri!" Three more voices echoed "Protego Fianto Duri!"

Light flew from his wand, and a table on the far side of the room exploded in large jagged fragments that flew about the room, several bouncing harmlessly off the biggest shield charm that enclosed the others. As the debris settled and the noise died away the shields dropped one by one.

They looked at Draco.

Draco stared at Harriet.

"What?" he said, "What!"

Harriet shrugged, "Ollivander said it would be good for shield charms."

"Is that _all _he told you."

"Also healing," said Harriet, "I had an odd feeling it was only a specific subset of healing magics but he didn't _say _that."

Draco shrugged, "Alright, another demonstration. Harriet, only you need to shield this time. Though if the rest of you also choose to, that might be good practice. Then I'll make repairs."

"Alright," said Harriet.

"DIFFINDO!" shouted Draco.

Three times as much light travelled from his wand, they could still see it fly even after Harriet's shield was raised. It impacted the wall with an impressive concussion, but Harriet felt nothing touch her shield.

"You may lower it now," said Draco.

The wall showed not the slightest scratch or scorch mark.

"That's what proper wards can do," said Draco, and began wandering around levitating splinters of broken table toward where they had originated, while he worked he talked. "no muggle house, not even a bank safe could stand up to an _adult _wizard who really wants access. To defend against magic, you need magic. Barty Crouch's ministry changed the auror force from a primarily investigative force to a more military force and changed the pursuit laws to be significantly more… shall we say, French. So the aurors now had a more extensive duty to chase people purportedly caught in the act all over creation only to have them disappear behind their own wards, or suicide into someone else's. The aurors wanted to somehow know ahead of time what wards were where. Or have all the lethal wards taken down. Or have all wards replaced with versions that would recognise an auror badge and permit them free passage.

"They even convinced some of their own and their sympathisers to install such wards. And got a law forced through that only that kind of ward was legal to build. And within a month criminals had begun ambushing Aurors to steal badges that were in effect keys to several people's homes. And were scheduled to be keys to _everyone's _homes. That went to court forever, and meanwhile no one else would let the ward re-builders in to do their jobs. That's when it first really getting bloody. Average citizens, many who didn't even have the potentially lethal types wards that the aurors most objected to, were being threatened with having all their wards removed, and replaced, at their own expense, with wards that would let in not only any auror, but also any organised crime group who'd taken the precaution of providing themselves with an stolen auror badge. Those average citizen wouldn't let the re-builders in, were offering to double normal price to forget to get around to their wards, and as a last resort, shooting at the warders when they refused to do anything but their jobs. It didn't take long for the warders to go on strike. And everyone was left with constructing their own wards themselves, which was sometimes more lethal than the intended ward would ever have been. Or trying to get a warder who'd break strike to build a traditional ward under the table. And as with all industries that are suddenly black market. The buyer suddenly has no recourse if they are given bad service. Some of the warders figured this out and became their own organised crime syndicates, selling the old wards, and building the new wards, except with their own access tokens in place of Auror badges, or in addition to them. When he-who-must-not-be-named came on the scene and took up the cry of the people he wasn't so much a hero as, a significantly less idiotic choice for a leader than Barty Crouch. The position of Barty Crouch's faction targeted everyone who wanted wards in the near future. Or rather, was allowing them to be targeted by criminals. And threatening to target everyone else's wards as soon as things settled down. Also the aurors were beginning to realise that if all the average citizens actually followed the law as written that legitimate holders of auror badges were in much more constant lethal danger from a new and rapidly organising criminal underworld than they ever had been from wards."

"The dark lord's position went the other way, since half the difficulty in building wards, and the main legal difficulty with lethal wards was the statute of secrecy, removing the need for the statute of secrecy would solve the problem. No one is clear whether he meant it literally or as satire, but people listened, and a few people did what he said, raiding muggle villages and mixed villages, targeting every house who hadn't wards to resist their entry or to resist their fire spells. Those were reported as the most common. There are fire spells that will get through most wards, but those were rarely used, the point was to make a statement about being allowed to have wards in the first place. The only ethical response would have been to sell wards to the muggles, but that of course would require them to be let through the statue of secrecy."

Draco stopped talking to try to get, 'Reparo," to do something, he got a lot of pieces to stick to their neighbours but there were still fragments missing and he turned away to look for them.

"This has been an episode of 'the winners write the history books, tune in after the break to hear the startling conclusion of The Real Story." Sing-song-ed Padma.

Draco shrugged, "Barty Crouch was ousted, in favour of Millicent Bagnold. The directives the Auror force was required to operate under became less French, but didn't quite return to the tradition of respect for citizens' rights of English Common Law. Most of the stupid regulations were removed but permits are still required for wards based on most dangerous effects. Warning signal, is class 1, I've heard that compared to a muggle style fire ward, class 2, is mental-only effects on the intruder, such as fear, confusion, or compulsion to leave, the common are muggle repelling, intruder repelling or it's more proper name 'a ward repelling those who harbour hostile intent', but there are others with more subtle effects, class 3 is passive shielding, like the walls here, class 4 active shielding up through hazardous and possibly lethal, most common are wards blocking specific charms or activities, such as wards blocking apparition or sound, class 5 is intentionally lethal. I think only embassies and prisons are allowed to install class 5 wards, but most don't. Gringotts has only ever carried class 4, hoping that their guards and dragons will only need to serve summary death to the few who don't surrender when confronted.

"Anyway, things were getting back to normal, and 'the dark lord' was loosing relevance, which he didn't take kindly. He went after several pure bloods who had new wards installed working through the new system, many got a class or two lower than they might have otherwise. Most famously of course was the Lord Potter and his new family got a class 2 ward on their new home. The Potter Line had traditionally used layered wards generally ranging from class 1 up to class 4 as you approached deeper into their residential space. And they could have afforded their normal ward schema, though their new property wasn't big enough for their normal number of layers, but it was also intended to be a home, not a keep and business conference centre like many of the old manor houses of the old families.

"However there was a new ward schema on the market that purported to be better than all the others, but only qualify as a class 2 based on intended effects, they chose that one, and didn't reinforce it with any of the normal class 3 effects that were generally advised, even by their architect. The dark lord did significant damage of course, but didn't survive the encounter. And the rest is history."

Everyone was quiet.

"But wasn't your dad one of the … of the dark lord's followers?"

"Their ideologies were similar on property rights," said Draco, "And Dad was more vocal than some of the other purebloods, but he didn't advocate the same policies as the dark lord, at first.

"Since they claimed to speak for the same segment of the population, and because he was so vocal and influential, the difference between the two became glaring. At least inside the Wizengamot where my Uncle Lestrange was the dark lord's mouthpiece. Eventually Dad was put under the imperious curse and kept there. Which the dark lord did not have sufficient opportunity to accomplish, which I infer means that it was not the dark lord who cast and maintained the curse, but my Aunt Bellatrix, Lord Lestrange's wife."

"I think I've heard of that," said Hermione, "It's like a super compulsion."

"Basically yes," agreed Draco, "Compulsions are generally very simple, and generally very short in duration perhaps only a few seconds though a powerful caster can sometimes maintain it for several minutes, and many can fight a compulsion just by noticing that it is in effect, most can decide to ignore a particular compulsion command after being exposed to it a time or two, almost always people commanded to do something against their values will immediately begin to resist, and in that situation most will succeed in throwing it off, the imperious is different, they say that it's so easy to recognise that it only takes one exposure with warning beforehand for most to learn to recognise it. But even knowing that one is under it, few can ignore its impetus, fewer still can break the spell."

"So," said Hermione, "As the losing side, you claim it was about something sensible, not about murdering muggles?"

"Crouch was voted out, Wards do require registration, though they're called permits they don't really amount to permits, class 5 permits are hardly ever issued, but hardly anyone wanted them anyway, and class 4 require a six month investigation, but nothing takes two years. So far as my family is concerned, we won. You-know-who lost a duel he shouldn't have started, but wizarding Britain and the Malfoy's position won. With qualification, but won."

"Can you describe the Headmaster's position in the last war?"

"He also militated against negative effects of the statute of secrecy, but he wanted to make the wizarding world more muggle. He wanted to do away with the sponsorship system and make naturalisation either a state function or a school function. Either of those things would effectively make school attendance mandatory. And require certain changes to the curriculum. It _could _homogenise the culture, or it could give the reigning headmaster unprecedented influence over the worldview of the next generation, probably both. For decades Dad has been blocking him from adding an 'introduction to wizarding culture' class for the muggleborn. He's even had to block hiring a history teacher that would teach only things that would look good… in revolutionary France or Stalinist Russia. Yes, our history teacher and our history textbooks are terribly out of date, but I've seen the proposed alternatives. Trust me, getting the right books donated to the library or smuggled in so to speak, by the muggleborn and their sponsors is a lot better. Better ignorance until the interest arises, than indoctrination before interest encourages one to think about what one is reading, and about whether one believes it, or is willing to live in a culture where it is considered the norm, or whatever."

"That's _very _interesting," said Hermione, "outside of Hogwarts, what educational opportunities exist?"

"Anyone may hire tutors, they don't even have to be qualified, just registered as taking responsibility for the safety of the pupil, the upholding of the statute of secrecy, and fulfilling a certain portion of the pupil's education up until the OWL, the NEWT, or Mastery, certifications, whichever they and their client choose. There are many village schools that only train to the OWL level, and a few more prestigious schools that train OWL pupils through their NEWT or NEWT pupils through their Mastery. A large portion of the Irish pure-bloods home school through OWL. Dumbledore's own sister was home schooled. And they lived less than an hour's ride away from Hogwarts by broom."

"And there are squib schools," said Padma, "that teach everything except for charms and transfiguration, and skip the parts of defence that requires a wand. They often concentrate more on herbology, animal husbandry, and runes."

"And potions," said Harriet.

"Where does one get this information?" said Hermione.

Draco shrugged, "Your sponsor should have given it to you, unless they were the sort of rich disinterested type who just said, 'Hogwarts is the best, I'll pay for that, no one will be able to find fault. Read these books, here's an owl, write me if you have any questions. Now I've done my duty and may legally go crawl back into my castle and fall asleep on my hoard for four generations.'"

Hermione blinked, "That was a very good imitation, do you know Flints."

"Yes," said Draco, "the eldest heir is a sixth year I think, and on the quidditch team, plays by the book, he's an idiot in most things, but he knows the rules of quidditch. I'm disappointed but not surprised to hear that his father isn't far different when it comes to keeping the letter of the law, and not taking a step beyond to fulfilling the spirit of the law. Or the richness of the tradition that the law was put in place to formalise."

"His mother actually," said Hermione, "or at least a woman. She rubbed us all the wrong way, Dad finally had enough and as soon as he was sure Mum had the Hogwarts contact information for muggle parents, he threw her out. She screamed at him from the front yard for a while but left when the neighbours called the bobby."

Draco sighed, "Feel free to show dad a pensieve memory of that sometime, perhaps he could get her listed as blood traitor, but it sounds like she followed the minimum forms. And he won't be able to do anything, except perhaps nail her for, 'not communicating well' which would mean she's got three years to find another client line, instead of a generation before the debt returns."

"Granted she didn't communicate well," agreed Hermione, "but how is 'not communicating well' a crime?"

"It's not a _crime_," said Draco, "But given that the whole point of being listed as a pure blood, is accepting a responsibility to, among other things, represent the best in wizarding society, 'not communicating well' especially to a candidate muggleborn, is precisely a failure to live up to the pureblood ideal. Call Flint a blood traitor to his face sometime, see what happens. But make sure there are witnesses and you have a shield charm ready."

"Better yet," said Padma, "Don't, or not until you can hold your own in a duel at the level you believe him capable of, and have a speech ready to explain what wrong you've experienced because his mother communicated poorly, and what sort of apology you'd be willing to accept from him on his parents behalf, to let the debt be considered a relic of the previous generation."

Draco stared, "Which school?"

"My family _teaches _something that when best translated into English resembles Ancient Nott, but what I observe us practising bears greater resemblance to Bones semi-modern."

Draco nodded, "Bones semi-modern has a less vindictive aspect that frees one to give the benefit of the doubt to lesser adversaries when your own life and livelihood, and that of your family (and perhaps their wards) are not threatened. It appeals to me, though I aim to live so that the differences between it and Abbot Modern are unlikely to be apparent."

There was silence during which Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harriet, and Harriet shrugged in return. At length Padma shrugged, "I'm not sure if I would be willing to limit myself in that way. Though I grant leaving everyone guessing between those two could be a useful tactic. But perhaps useful only once."

Draco sighed, "agreed. Would you be offended if my father contacts yours?"

Padma jerked and stood up, then danced a half step to the side to catch her chair and set it straight again. Then she stood behind it and stared into the middle distance, not quite toward Draco's chin, "not … exactly. But perhaps if he waited several years, it would be … much better."

"Do you have a date in mind? Or shall I await your permission? Or shall I ask again once a year?"

"I don't want to discuss it before I have my OWL results," said Padma.

Draco nodded, "That is quite soon enough, I'm sure."

Padma shifted her weight from foot to foot and back, then resumed her chair.

Then she sighed again, "if the subject _does _come up before I wish it to, may I state your name and today's date and my request that you wait for me to prove myself as evidence on my behalf."

"I would hate to think that you would not do so," said Draco.

Padma smirked, "fair enough." Then she hopped up again, and offered Hermione a hand, "Come on, Mudblood, let's go find Daphne."

Hermione blinked, "isn't that supposed to be…"

Padma grinned, "In India I'm a pureblood and a princess, in mundane Britain I'm a dirty carny, in wizarding Britain I am a mudblood, because I refuse to weaken my claim of pureblood, by retaining the services of a sponsor. All it takes to be proud of the name mudblood, is to be rich enough to pay your own tuition, which you were, and willing to study enough to count yourself as your own sponsor, which I think you'll finish before the end of winter break, that or I've completely missed my guess as to your social intelligence."

"Huh," said Hermione, and moved with her toward the door, "point of order, what was that last conversation between you and Draco.

"Oh," giggled Padma, "he proposed."

"He did?"

The door closed behind them.

"You did?" said Harriet.

"Technically," said Draco, "I requested her permission to request my father to request her father's permission for us to court, but," he shrugged, "if she chooses to mistake one complement for the other, or to abbreviate it for the gryffindor, I don't suppose I mind."

"Draco, you're _eleven._"

"I am," he said, "and you're twelve, and by some weird convolution, reckoned as 'of age,' yet there are no rumours that you are Jewish."

"How would you _know_?" she said.

"I asked Anthony Goldstein if you'd showed up for their Friday night mass or whatever it's called. And he said no."

"There are synagogue meetings here?" said Harriet.

"I've heard that it's registered as an unlisted club," said Draco, "but yes, that."

"Why unlisted?"

"Because in order to be the kind of club they wanted it has to be school related, to be school related they have to ostensibly discuss magic, to keep with the theme the magic they would ostensibly discuss is cabala, which either freaks out attracts too many muggleborn who know just enough about what cabala is to be insulting. And while cabala is discussed from time to time in passing, _most_ of what they do is light candles, and sing, and pray, and study, and petition the house elves for wine and bread that's been baked in funny shapes."

"You are _so _irreverent," said Harriet.

"It's _not_ my tradition," said Draco, "I probably couldn't do pious without being even more insulting. So I stick to facts, without wrapping them up in terminology that I haven't studied, and am certain I'd pronounce wrong."

"Hmm," said Harriet, wondering how he'd respond to someone describing _his _pureblood aesthetics in starkly anthropological terms, actually he'd probably join right in and insist that they go a layer or two more meta and agree with him about overarching goals behind the reasons each practice that existed. Which perhaps was also her objection to his flippant words, they had seemed to imply that the practice had no purpose, but if he were rather allowing for the possibility that his understanding was too shallow to be trusted to not be offensively inaccurate… "alright, fine," she said, "anyway, were there more lessons you wanted to give me on study techniques? Or should I try to read a book or two the way you described first before I try to layer on an additional technique?"

"I think that it might be a good idea to let you pick up one new habit at a time, let's schedule these lessons at about … every two weeks, that should give you a chance to pick most of them up and solidify them fairly firmly before you try to pick up the next one."

"That's the longest between lessons of anything I've ever heard of," she said.

"Trust me, it takes more time to learn something when you're also trying to concentrate on learning something else, which is, by definition, what is going on when learning study skills.

"I suppose that makes sense."

"Is there anything else?" he said.

"What were you talking about to Padma right before you 'proposed' to her?" said Harriet.

"The philosophy of the meaning and method by which to offer and accept an apology, especially in light of the philosophy by which you hold yourself and your family responsible to stamp out the ills of society. That was what convinced me she was the important parts of pure blood, more than any of her explanations of any of the various bits of her family's history. Perhaps it's not very traditional of me, but I want to know if you'll act as a responsible citizen, and how you believe a responsible citizen should act, and once I know that, I don't actually care how many generations it's been since you received tutoring that was paid for by a family friend, instead of by your own parents."

"Or perhaps it's somewhat common," said Harriet, "The last Lord Potter married a muggleborn, didn't he? If only they'd lived we could see how their son turned out with his father's philosophy and his mother's combined."

"True," said Draco, "Anyway, if you ever run across a book called, 'Families and Philosophies, traditions in ethics, ethics in practice,' by Malcolm MacGonagall. You want to buy it or trade the favours necessary to be allowed to study it."

"You say that like it's rare."

"It was only printed once, but given that it was written by a child of a pure blood witch and a muggle minister, (Presbyterian, I believe), and was raised mostly muggle, and then crammed with proper tutoring only after about age nine. He kept an interest in the subject and viewed the philosophy of ethics as a very compelling field of study. He had a line that I don't think I remember quite well enough to do justice to, but it is along the lines of, 'because witches and wizards are more powerful than any government could ever hope to keep in check, wizarding society must police itself. It uses two tools, reputation, and its repercussions, and self-discipline with all its failings. I don't say that magicals are angels, but magicals must hold themselves and their fellow magicals to act in every way as worthy of the title, or their civilisation will crumble.'"

Harriet blinked, and thought about everything Draco had ever implied about the pure blood families policing themselves, mostly by means of public accusations, rather than taking each other to court.

"That sounds like something Hermione should read … or something that she emphatically should not."

"If she could get into her head that she must allow for a certain level of 'not everyone can think of everything before hand' she'll be able to make excuses for people before she marches in and demands everyone live up to her non-systematised morality, post hoc. What she does now just makes everyone feel awkward and puts her in the wrong mood to learn what they _did _know when they decided to act, which information would put her in a position to begin analysing how people seem to _try_ to act, which would put her in the position I'm in, of trying to guess who I can trust, and with what."

"That sounds familiar," said Harriet.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to tell her about something I heard at home, and realised that I'd never checked up on the information, and that I had no way of checking up on it, and that I couldn't in good conscience tell her what I knew, because I didn't know it. It was rather disturbing."

"Let me guess," said Draco, "all this about how squibs are more sensitive to magic."

Harriet shook her head, "I've heard that and seen evidence of it from enough squibs that I believe it, I'd bet Ollivander is a squib."

Draco blinked at her, and then slapped his forehead, "of course he is, Oh Merlin, you're right, this makes sense of so many things, leave me alone I've got to think… no wait, what was the thing you no longer felt confident in?"

"Just a random bit of trivia about the last war…" Harriet frowned, "tell me, does the four points care more about the name you say or the object you visualise."

"It doesn't have to be a full visualisation, just enough to separate it from the rest," he said and cast the charm so it would point him to a table. It jerked around a bit and he let it fall, but when cast to point to a table that he'd 'repaired' recently, it turned and held steady.

"Could you use it to find someone you've never met before?" said Harriet.

"Probably not," he said, "But I've met almost everyone," and he smirked in a way that Harriet imagined meant both 'everyone worth knowing' and 'just kidding'

He sobered, "If I knew enough about them I might be able to find them."

"Could you find, Harry Potter?"

"Point me, Harry Potter," he said, his wand spun and pointed. "That's … west?" said and stepped to the side. The wand stayed pointed at Harriet.

"Did you visualise how I looked on Halloween?"

"Among other things," he said, and frowned.

"That's … at best only what he's superficially rumoured to look like. I don't know for sure how he looks. If I've met him it was under a different name. All the contact I've had with him has been through my Dad. And most of it by dictated letter."

"So no one could torture you to find out what he looks like or even what his handwriting looks like?" said Draco.

Harriet nodded.

"That is an impressive amount of overkill," said Draco, "is all this compartmentalisation against the dark lord's followers or against Dumbledore."

"I'm not sure, perhaps both," said Harriet, "If I'd known that Dumbledore was the sort of person one might need to plan against that way I might have thought about avoided coming here."

"It's not that bad," said Draco, "Sure he wants to influence all of society by how he runs the school, but it's only one school, and he has Dad and the rest of the board keeping him in check, and don't forget a quarter of slytherin and several pupils in other houses are the children of board members. Which adds another method as well as another motivation by which to check up on him and keep him in check."

"Yeah," said Harriet, "that's fine for you, and for … me getting an education, it's less fine for me being entrusted with being a sufficient agent for Harry, I'd feel a lot better if I knew even less about his whereabouts than I do."

"How much do you know?" said Draco, "I thought you didn't know anything."

"I don't," she said, "I know I contact him through Mum, and so far all his letters were dictated to Dad or recopied by him. Which means that unless Dad is making frequent trips all over Europe he could be followed without much trouble."

"Then you need to warn your Dad that," said Draco.

"Right," said Harriet.

...

Aftermaths:

Harriet wrote up everything she thought was politically relevant about the conversation, especially the names of the books that Harry might want to read, and sent it off. She received a reply back more quickly than she expected possible. She also buried a hint about having her twelfth birthday October 30th and feeling awkward that her party couldn't happen until December.

Harriet,

You're right. You're on your own until we can speak in person. We'll talk then.

Double check everything important. There is always an additional way. The good prevails through perseverance and creativity. In the end the evil only succeeds in feeding the todal.

Good luck,

Petunia Matirni.

...

"What's the todal?" said Blaise.

"Did you really just read my mail?" said Harriet.

"The way you giggled then spread it out between us I thought you were inviting me to," said Blaise.

"The todal is a creepy little creature from a kids book. It personifies hell or the devil or something, I suppose. I always pictured it as kind of weaselish but fat. It slithers in and devours dedicated evildoers when they make a mistake and are less evil than they ought to have managed to be."

Blaise laughed, "no one is evil for evil's sake, at most they are evil for selfish reasons, to gain power, or to inspire fear. And those who are trying to inspire fear, never try to inspire the maximum amount or the populace would instantly rise up together and destroy them."

"What about Morgan Le'fay," "what about Baba Yaga," "what about—" et cetera bubbled up from around the table.

"Read the original sources, not the strategic exaggerations by their opponents, or the literary exaggerations, that came later," said Blaise, "then get back to me."

"Grindelwald."

"His motto was, 'for the greater good,' the good he aimed for was socialist, and he stepped all over peoples rights but he wasn't _trying_ to be evil."

"Oh, I see what you're trying to say," said Pansy.

Harriet folded her letter and put it away. She noticed no one suggested the most recent 'dark lord' to have been evil for evil's sake and she was willing to accept that was a useful indication, even if he had reputedly murdered her aunt and uncle. Of course that _might _have been justified war attrition; she hadn't intensively studied history that recent. But she was for the moment willing to accept the possibility.

Or maybe that's why no one brought the last war up, it was still too fresh, no one wanted to be seen as accusing anyone else's parents of being on the wrong side. Maybe in a private chat about philosophy or history, but not here in the middle of breakfast.

**{End Chapter 13}**


	14. Confrontation

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Confrontation**

Severus was correcting fifth year midterm parchments and having a awful time seeing how poorly prepared so many of his pupils still were for their OWLs. A traitorous but well supported fraction of his mind was prematurely crowing about how many fewer students would be joining the NEWT class. It was not quite the same traitorous fraction of his mind that tried to convince him to welcome the distraction when someone pounded furiously on his study door.

"Enter." He said. From the knocking he expected a Prefect with news of a life threatening bullying injury. Surely he'd made it clear to both Parkensons that he wasn't interested in additional excruciating conversations relating to the posibility of shared ancestry.

Draco Malfoy entered, wearing a wooden expression, after he glanced around he turned and closed the door. When he turned back his expression was anything but calm. Draco at least came by his claims on Severus' emotions honestly, he'd been the boy's godfather from a traditional point in the boy's life. Not like Harriet. Why in hell was it popular this year to be related to one Severus Snape, the Halfblood Prince, youngest Potion Master in generations.

Severus sighed, "you'd better tell me all about it."

"You said you spoke to Harry Potter?"

"I did," said Severus.

"Have you tried the four points charm on him?"

"No," said Severus, "is there reason to believe that it would tell me something interesting."

"Is there a better way to track people by their name only, instead of by whatever limited details you know about them and can hold in your mind all at once? Which is what the four points charm also requires."

"Several, but they aren't first year, a few are restricted, because they reported to be mentally damaging in some cases, if you're looking for a person or the signature of a magical artefact, there are tracking charms that require a sample imprinted by that signature, such as a piece of the subject's hair," said Severus, "Why do you ask?"

"When I cast it for, 'Harry Potter,' it points to someone else. The first time there were reasons to believe that I had cast with a poor visualisation, since then I've refined and practised, I can even cast wordlessly, and it still points to the same person."

"Thank you, Draco," said Severus, "I'll look into it."

"You'll be discrete, won't you?" said Draco. That level of concern looked cute on him.

What an odd thought, Draco hardly ever managed cute anymore, and now it had been twice in a week.

"Yes, I'll be careful who I share your suspicions with."

Draco looked even more concerned, "I'd rather you didn't share them with anyone, I can't imagine anyone important acting … _well _in light of it." _So I__'m not important, nice complement._

"Suppose I trace Harry Potter deep into eastern Europe and find his school, and accidentally let slip that he is the sole survivor of an attack that left a great but perhaps evil or crazy British wizard dead, ten years ago, do you imagine they care about British wizards? The worst it will do is raise suspicions that he is an orphan and might not pay his tuition next year. But since he's paying cash in person, from an administrative standpoint it will change nothing."

Draco shrugged.

"Conversely, suppose I find that this person you found is Harry Potter, hiding in plain sight, obviously that will be an interesting revelation, but—"

"Just cast the charm," said Draco.

"I have parchments to correct," said Snape.

"Cast it and I'll leave you alone,"

Severus stared at his godson, then drew his wand. The spell pointed slightly down and mostly to the right.

"That would be Slytherin common room," calculated Severus, "Let me guess, Harriet Matirni,"

Draco nodded.

"Polyjuice?" said Severus.

Draco shrugged, "Not that I ever caught her taking."

"Other options," muttered Severus, "magic mirrors don't attract the four points, unless you're specifically looking for the mirror in question. It won't detect a mirror based on who's near the other end. If Harriet is wearing an amulet with contains some of his hair, virgin, and thinks of it as her piece of 'Harry Potter' … it might confuse her familiar when he's sent to deliver mail to 'Harry Potter' but it shouldn't confuse anyone else's owls. Or anyone else's four points charm."

"If you were her mother… If you were his aunt…" muttered Severus, "What _did _Dumbledore order his aunt when he turned over the baby to her,"

"Good night, sir." The door closed and Severus spun. Draco was gone.

Did the child not care once he turned the problem over? Did the child report to him instead of to his own father? Did the child report to him after having been ordered to by his father?

Severus put down his papers and wrote a short note to the headmaster.

"In case it interests you, whatever was done to HM to pull HJP's owls to her, also affects the the four points charms. You didn't hear this from me. ~SS"

He knew that the Headmaster would get it in a couple days, He also put notes in his calender to pull Draco and Harriet aside soon and tell them both that explanation. But first, before Harriet had a chance to suggest the story to anyone, He'd confront Petunia with it.

He went back to correcting papers, he finished in record time and looked at the clock. He flooed to spinster's end and walked to the fair ground. They always visited Petunia's old haunts in November.

He cast the four points charm, this time on Petunia's husband.

He found a smart little apothecary laid out in a very odd style, it took him a moment, and then he realised, all the magical ingredients behind the counter no … all the _dangerous _ingredients were behind the counter. He browsed for a few minutes getting an idea how prices compared to the other shops he frequented, it looked like he bought from the same wholesaler that Baxter bought from, but marked up an additional fifteen percent, on the other hand, he marketed to muggles and squibs who might not have access to Diagon Alley or any of the nearer magical market places.

"Oh," said someone, "is there anything I could help you find?"

"I'm mostly just checking prices," said Severus, "actually I'm mostly just killing time until you arrived, are you the Mr. Matirni that married Petunia, nee Evens?"

"Yes," he said, "who do I have the pleasure of addressing."

"Harriet's head of house, and potions professor," said Severus, "a very impressive pupil, Harry is."

"Sir?"

"Oh," said Severus, "she's going by Harry now, ever since her birthday."

His face fell, "yes, very disappointing that she couldn't get home for it, some mix up in the paperwork Petunia said."

"Harriet never hinted anything to me about trying to get home for it, perhaps she didn't wish to miss classes."

He frowned, "Of course she doesn't want to miss classes, but it is a family occasion, not every birthday but for twelve she should have been home."

Snape nodded, "I tried to ask, and she expected the celebration would happen over the winter holidays, but between you and me, she was a bit depressed that day."

The man frowned, and gradually compressed his lips in thought, "her birthday is often the one bright spot that week. No that's not true, the rest of the caravan celebrates the various holidays of the month and season changing."

"Ah," Snape nodded, so much for his suspicion about her birthday, "her transfiguration work has improved greatly, for the first of winter she made up her face and hair to resemble her cousin."

"Which cousin?" The man's eyes went wide in shock and perhaps horror, "She doesn't always have good taste."

Snape shrugged, "I was trying to complement her transfiguration work, not get her in trouble."

"Remind me, what is this transfiguration?"

Snape explained, and explained about creating green glass contact lenses.

The man thought that was ingenious, and asked about her hair.

Snape told about the wig. And said it looked more like Harry's father, than the not-quite-neat boy he'd seen on his last visit.

The man frowned, "that was not well done, he is very sensitive about his hair."

Snape could imagine, it was the only aspect of the whole image the boy projected that was the least bit comical.

"Could you explain to me how the mail re-routing was accomplished?" said Severus, "it's caused some confusion and it would help if we knew what was in place so we know what to expect, and perhaps begin to alleviate these problems before they arise."

The man shrugged, "Petunia took them to a specialist in London, I never heard anything back except he hadn't needed to be told either of their names, and he tried to convince Petunia that he didn't mind not being payed. That set Harry off of course and he insisted on paying. He's like that, very proud but refuses to accept worship. Harriet is similar, you said she didn't even ask for permission to return home for her birthday?"

That was a different view of the subject.

"It is so hard to convince her to say what she wants for her birthday," said her father, "I don't suppose you have any insight?"

"I gave her a book of historical plays and poetry."

"Ah!" he said, "I'm sure she liked that."

This wasn't getting him anywhere, "Harriet mentioned that Harry doesn't go by his name at home."

"That's true," said the man, "when we understood what he'd been through we raised him under a different name, he knows his real name, but he answers more readily several others some he picked out, some that were chosen for him by all and sundry."

"Is there a better name for me to call him, to avoid mentioning the name he is most famous by?"

"Ah!" said the man, "he has a set of eight, which he changes among just about every month." He frowned, "Or he did, I suppose he's stopped all that annoyance when he went away to school."

"Ah yes," said Snape, "How is he progressing at school?"

"Doing well according to the half term results, I wish he would write more often,"

"I don't suppose a half term is enough to show his strengths and weaknesses, or for that matter, those of the programs he's attending?"

The man shrugged, "Not yet, and I give him until the end of term to use the results so far to adjust where he invests his study time. Why did Harry's names come up?"

"It came up because some people have started shortening Harriet's name and she had to decide whether to rebuke them, and if so what if any explanation to give."

"What did she decide?"

"Like I said, She dressed as 'Harry Potter' for Halloween, or rather a caricature of him, though between you and I only the eyes and hair matched particularly,"

"When did you meet him?"

"When I visited to help Harriet and the Patil twins buy their school supplies."

"Ah, Yes," the man said, "did you wish to speak to their parents as well, or only Petunia and I."

"I came to speak to Petunia, but the apothecary caught my attention. And a mobile apothecary, well I had to come in and see how you arranged things."

"Yes, of course," he said, reaching for the closed sign, "shall we go meet her now?"

"Why not," said Severus.

He felt an odd emotion as the man's back was to him. But it passed when the 'closed' sign was in place and the man turned back to usher him out.

They went to an odd tent like wagon that was a striped in darker colours than Severus remembered, but he supposed the canvas might need replacing from time to time.

They found Petunia inside and counselling someone on a returning ear infection. In the end she bundled up several containers and told her to administer them in succession two drops in the morning and in the evening, for three days each. Discontinuing any immediately if there were an adverse reaction. Whichever seemed most effective, use it until it ran out, and then mail her for a full bottle.

A minute more of small talk and Petunia ushered the patron out the back door, she saw them standing there and beckoned them in and motioned for them to sit.

They made a bit of small talk, and Snape thought there might be something odd about which bits of news, and which bits of his own commentary on that news Mr. Matirni chose to repeat to Petunia. Petunia seemed interested in it all, though she made few comments of her own.

When the man wound down she seemed to relax and turn to Snape, "Sev, you're rarely the type to visit just to shoot the breeze, unless you already had business in town and just wanted to stop by?"

"No," said Severus, "It was mostly that question about how you managed to get Harry Potter's mail to go to Harriet,"

She frowned, "to tell you the truth, that wasn't the original intent. We didn't really figure out there had been any change with the mail until his Hogwarts letter arrived. No one ever sent him owls, I didn't really think it odd until Harriet started sending them every week or two, and always something in them about how Harry is such a celebrity and how and which close friends she's revealed anything about a connection to him."

"Do you know how it was done? Your husband said something about a specialist in Diagon?"

"No the specialist was to try to undo it, as I remember, there had been people in outlandish clothing, some with their magic showing and some with it masked more or less successfully. They were always bothering the children, some could tell sensitives from witches and some could not, I suppose it's harder when they're younger, I didn't realise it until Harriet had already figured it out and fixed it. Accidental magic I'm sure. They would tend to wander until they found any magical boy near Harry's age and then begin asking all sorts of questions, Harry never told his name of course, but Harry also hadn't been told why people might be looking for him, and all the other boys that age with enough magic for the bumblers to notice were becoming either annoyed or terrified by the attention. Harriet realised that they did sometimes find her just the same as they found the others, but they left her alone. She wished that she was the only one the bumblers could find, and after that they only found her. It made problems for all four boys' mothers so I took her to a specialist to see if it could be undone, but he couldn't fix it. Said it was ongoing accidental magic and had a root deep in the light half of her core, and that it couldn't be removed without damaging her, perhaps without turning her dark. And the longer she held up the burden the stronger her light side would be. Said we should let her 'keep helping' for as long as she felt like it, and say 'thank you' when she stopped, and re-assure her at that point that we didn't resent that she couldn't keep it up longer.

"In the end, the easiest solution was send her to carry the messages to those four, since no one else could find them on purpose. Sometimes she resented the chore, but she never connected it to her wish that they be safe from outsiders, nor did she ever seem to tire of the task."

"I see," said Snape, "Thank you, that's very helpful."

"So why did you need to know?"

"One of my students, my godson in fact learned a spell for finding things, you have to know a bit about the target for it to work. He is good friends with Harriet and though he might impress her by for once knowing a bit of trivia about Harry Potter that she didn't, such as which school he was attending. He got out a map and marked his best guesses where the best schools are, and cast the charm, and realised immediately by the direction he was getting that he'd found the wrong thing, A little checking and he knew he'd found Harriet. More reading up on the spell and he decided that trying to find anyone based on how someone else looked when dressed up as your target for a masquerade was bound to fail and he studied other things that are known or theorised about Harry Potter, he still only found Harriet.

"Then he reported to me, or to be more precise came to me because he didn't wish to go to his charms professor for help with his results, but figured that as mutual godfather of both of them, I could be trusted both to know of the problem, and to explain what he was doing wrong. I told him it had been done intentionally to draw Potter's owls to her also since it's already rumoured among the students that that happens. He seemed mollified, but more determined than ever to learn … something. What the something is I haven't figured, if he's trying to impress her he ought to try memorising Keats."

Harriet's father snorted, "you ought to tell him that."

"I might," said Severus.

"But his trouble got you interested, and you thought you'd ask us instead of bothering Harriet."

"Harriet has a lot on her plate," said Severus, "I didn't want to get her started on some sort of existential crisis, when I could already tell that the two data points I had already looked like a group of their own."

"If you're the investigating type," said Petunia, "and Harriet's mail is of interest to you, I have a conundrum for you: Why isn't Harriet receiving tons and tons of fan mail aimed at Harry Potter?"

"Because Dumbledore thought of that before he even brought you the child, it accumulates in a Hogwarts store room at about a ton a month and is sifted through by a legal team, most of it ends up being sold and the proceeds deposited in his vaults."

"Ah," said Petunia, "that explains it,"

"I believe Harriet has been invited to watch, in case she wishes to make changes to the disposal policies, I'd like to invite you also, though if you put your visit off until when the school is not in session it would make _all _the logistics of such a visit significantly easier."

Petunia shook her head, "we can worry about that some other time," she said.

"Disappointed?" said Severus.

Petunia snorted, "the real explanations for things are often so mundane, especially when wise people take the time to think ahead."

"Quite," said Severus, "I wonder if we shouldn't get together to compare notes more often, is there anything else you'd like to know about how Dumbledore has tried to pull strings for you and Harry ever since he asked you to take him."

"Sure," said Harriet's father, "please tell us everything,"

"He got the circus a license to trade with muggles and enchanted an automatically updating itinerary, so that everyone here is somewhat protected from prosecution for breeches of the international statute of secrecy. And to make the aurors feel more comfortable that they know where to come to stop outbreaks if a muggle broke in and caused more trouble than you or the police could deal with."

"Did he really," said Harriet's father, "Well how about that."

"It would have made it easier for him to keep tabs on Harry," said Petunia.

"I made him give me his oath he wouldn't be peeping into your private lives," said Severus, "that itinerary would provide a good start for a detective trying to piece together a crime report, or me trying to visit, but it doesn't show much that isn't mostly public knowledge anyway."

"What exactly does it track?" said Petunia.

"What do you mean?"

"It would be simple to make it track Harry before he brought him here," said Petunia, "but does it report when we take him to visit Harriet's grandfather in Slovenia? Or does it track my wagon, but suppose I sold my wagon. Or track my suit case or brewing equipment? Hmm?"

Severus smiled to be reminded of a particularly good joke, "Ah, but which wagons haven't you replaced in the last decade?"

Petunia frowned and turned to her husband. He was rapidly trying to recall everything that had happened in that time.

"More to the point," said Severus, "which wagon could he have predicted would still be with the circus in fifty years."

"The concertina," said husband and wife together. "Smart man," he said.

"It wasn't fail-safe," said Severus, "but it was the best gamble he could calculate."

"What else," said Petunia.

"Something about protective wards of some sort," said Severus, "anti-hostility wards or something to keep the mobs from getting as violent, he'd intended to give you something else more all encompassing, but realised that it would interfere with the business of what a circus is supposed to be. With his experience running a school he has a keen sense of … not exerting too much order at the expense of fun and creativity."

Petunia nodded, "I seem to remember that episode."

"Devil of a time getting everything to go back to its proper colour," said her husband.

Severus looked between them with a raised eyebrow, and realised that they weren't going to answer until he asked.

"Alright, what happened?"

"It changed the colour of everything's magic, we had to take it off again, it was keeping the crowds from knowing how they were supposed to flow around and through everything. The crowds are a herd, even if they don't have conscious access to their instincts, or to their herd magic. When the leaders that are capable of violence are kept out the rest have no one to follow, no one to cut trail for them, without that they bunch and huddle and try to find back ways. Since roman times there are many more leaders than at earlier times, and more again since democracy and a philosophy of upward mobility started to allow and reward those who had the ability to lead with better titles than 'chief brigand'."

Severus closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to be able to recognise those things instantly, in the auras that he'd heard squibs describe before. Rather than needing to fold his mind into the shape that would allow him to practice legilimency, and then only being able to see surface thoughts unless he was willing to struggle deeper into older memories.

"So," said Severus, "that bit of protection was also not helpful. That is interesting to me, but I believe I will not tell Dumbledore immediately. He would doubtless rush off at once to put something else in place. Worse, I don't believe he has a firm grasp of how common natural leaders have become among the mundanes, nor how much magic even a muggle possesses."

"Of course they possess magic, or magic posses them, humans are a magical race. Its just that like trees, some of us grow in an way that is more attuned to the colours that shape the world, and some to the colours that shape conversation and ideas, and some to the colours that shape their own minds."

"An interesting description," said Severus, "are there bowtruckles for humans?"

"You mean, are there animals who both identify and are attracted to humans of specific magical varieties, and who feast upon their parasites, and otherwise protect them?

"Something like that," said Severus.

"Why kneazles of course," said Petunia, "they feed their magic on wrackspurts and other magical and mental parasites. Perhaps you should get one."

Severus rubbed his forehead, "I don't have time for a cat,"

"Now now," said Petunia, "they don't take much time, and the point is that they take care of _you_. Also I said kneazle, not cat. Be careful of cats, some of them carry parasites of their own that you should be careful of. Kneazle magic keeps their _bodies _parasite free, but they are prone to magical parasites of their own, so you must be careful to pick a good one and keep it healthy."

"As I said," Severus repeated, "I don't have time for one,"

"Alright," said Petunia holding up her hands, "it was just a suggestion, there are a couple others: ice phoenix eat briskal mites if they see them within reach. Their eyes are better than most birds of prey, an ice phoenix is a rare enough, be nice to them whenever you get the chance.

"I don't go out of my way to annoy birds," said Snape.

"I'm sure you annoy everything equally just by the mere fact of your personality," said Petunia, "I'm not talking about that, I'm saying be nice to phoenixes whatever the colour, even if you have to go out of your way a bit."

"And their owners I suppose?"

Petunia shook her head, "According to the lore that I've read, magicals take familiars except in the case of kneazles, phoenixes, and dragons. With a kneazle the bond is mutual, though the will and intellect are not balanced. With a phoenix, it is the phoenix that takes the familiar, not the magical, and they sometimes choose other beings than human. And with dragons the texture of the bond is different because the dragon has the intellect and willpower to sever the bond directly, or to use the bond to hunt down the unfortunate being who thought that they could be of use to a dragon. It's not impossible, but it is exceedingly rare for the relationship to work in practice."

Snape shrugged, "I'm not particularly interested in any of those, though perhaps someday a kneazle would become a good choice."

"Getting back to the point," said Petunia's husband, "how many of our other problems were instigated by the meddler?"

Snape shook his head, "that's everything I believe."

The man nodded, "good, the last two cases I've been laying to the blame of those paparazzi or whatever they were who were looking for Harry."

"Anything residual I could help with?" said Severus.

The man hook his head.

"Alright," said Severus, "Anything else we should discuss?"

"Sure," said the man, "Who's spy are you?"

"What?" said Severus, and felt his occlumency barriers for evidence of infiltration.

"You're obviously a spy, where do your true loyalties lay?"

Severus breathed carefully several times, then shrugged, "you can't possibly expect _anyone_ to give a response to that."

The man shrugged, "It was worth a try."

Severus breathed again, "I suppose I could have been a spy if things had turned out differently. As it is I am merely a go between for the saner faction of purebloods and the more powerful block of progressives."

What followed was an amazingly frank discussion of the politics of magical Britain over the course of the last five years.

Severus was re-acquainted with Petunia's amazing ability to see her way clear of thorny problems by taking the third or fourth option, if she'd been the one with magic instead of Lily, and if she'd teamed up with Moody … or Bones after Moody was done training her, how different the last war and recent peace could have gone.

He also began to be interested in where Harriet and Harry would take the world once they finished school and re-combined forces. And then he remembered.

"Quick question," he said, "my godson was confiding to me worries about the stress Harriet was feeling herself to be under, and he made the statement in passing that Harriet reports never having met Harry, yet according to my memory, you sent Harriet to retrieve Harry."

The man frowned and looked at Petunia, "I didn't think Harriet knew which one is Harry."

"She doesn't," said Petunia, "I sent her to pass a message that would retrieve one of her other cousins, and wait elsewhere while we had our discussion with him."

"So that wasn't Harry?"

"Rather," said Petunia, "Harriet doesn't know that it was Harry. Nor does she know if the cousin who notified her to come back was Harry or another go between."

Severus reviewed his memory, that was possible, but no one would have expected it from the encounter.

He was dealing with people who could have been spies themselves, well perhaps they weren't lethal enough, but they were tricky enough. Amateur they might be, but with twelve years experience at this particular charade he'd have to be at the top of his game to roll up this level of compartmentalisation. The question was, should he. It was to keep Lily's child safe from outside violence or influence. And hopefully to protect Harriet from too much pressure to spill secrets she'd never been given.

On the other hand, was the Harry he'd met even been the real Harry?

Had he even been magical?

He'd had Lily's eyes and Potter's hair.

Harriet had made green contacts in an afternoon, and had complained about lack of high grade mask material. It seemed just as likely that the instructions from her mother had been, 'go find your cousin x, and put him in the Harry Potter mask, and send him here.'

Was Harry Potter even in Europe? Even alive? Wait.

"How much dealing have you had with Gringotts?" said Severus.

"As little as possible," said Petunia, "usually Royce gets whatever money changed that we need."

Severus nodded.

"Where's your twisted mind going if it came from Harry and passed to Gringotts?"

"Just thinking about their magical heritage tests if Harry ever loses that key I passed him."

Harriet's father smirked. Her mother shrugged, "he's been warned,"

And what about Harriet's trust fund… Why did _Harriet_ have a trust fund. Or rather why was it held at Gringotts.

Harry's letter had said, "I trust her in all things as my agent," she'd been carrying his key, or she had been that day. The reason she'd had enough Galleons on hand for the wand was because she'd been instructed to withdraw enough for the two of them. It would have been interesting to have been a fly on the wall for the discussion _that_ evening.

And Harry _still _trusted her.

Perhaps the more interesting thing would have been to hear her exact instructions before departing that morning. Or had he been there and missed it?

**{End Chapter 14}**


	15. Beginning of Hols

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters WOULD have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Research Results**

By Christmas Harriet had gotten through eight whole books in the restricted section, and given up on three more, marking them down in her notes as "too advanced, try again later." She had not mastered any spells in them, but she felt like she had taken enough notes where to find them again if she decided she needed them.

She'd also realised that Quirrell was spending an amazing amount of time in the potions area of the restricted section. She wondered what problem he must have and why he didn't consult with Professor Snape about it. But her godfather had ways of knowing things that you didn't tell him, and perhaps he found that creepy, the way the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors found it creepy.

But the rumour she'd heard was that Quirrell had been a Ravenclaw, back in his school days.

She'd had the feeling that Quirrell had also noticed her in the restricted section, but he hadn't confronted her about being there, so she hadn't needed to show him the pass Dumbledore had given her.

.

When she realised how slowly she was progressing, she switched to cataloguing according to Padma and Hermione's specifications. She was sort of hoping that by knowing what books were around, and noticing which books were introductory, she could read them in a progressive order, and the more advanced books would take less total time to read. After all, if reading introductory works before advanced works wasn't in general a good idea there wouldn't _be_ introductory works, and school would start and end with seventh year.

After several hours of doing nothing but cataloguing she realised that _just_ cataloguing _felt _as unproductive as just reading books she couldn't understand, so she found a compromise, she would catalogue a shelf each day and then continue her reading. She calculated that if she kept up the schedule she'd have the portion of the restricted section she was in catalogued by half way through the spring term. And she figured that she wouldn't finish reading before she graduated, unless her study speed picked up significantly.

But it already had picked up significantly, thanks to Draco's lessons, and other bits of advice that Hermione, Padma, and Daphne had given her in passing.

So far none of her notes had been blocked by Professor Snape. Either from showing her friends or sending to Harry. Snape had suggested that she not send her notes by owl but lock them in her locker and show them to Harry over the holidays.

Draco had been interested but did not seem impressed by her notes, he was much more interested in her catalogue entries and offered to copy them onto cards so that Hermione and Padma could keep working.

Two days later Harriet had questioned him about it. He shrugged, "my dad's library has several of the books you read," he said, "I guess I'm just interested in what the library has that I'm not going to learn from Dad over the summers, later, if he thinks they're useful."

"Oh, I see," she said.

So they talked about his Dad's library, and the differences between banned books and books that were 'banned from being read by children.'

So far Harriet hadn't run across any that she thought belonged in either category, but she wasn't sure if that was because they were so difficult for her to understand that she didn't yet know how light or dark or gross they might actually be. Or whether so far she'd chanced to skip all the bad ones because they used words she didn't know.

**Riding Show**

No one was sure where the idea had originated, but all of the riding clubs had decided to hold shows on their last meeting before winter break. The whole school was invited to all three, and suddenly the teachers got involved and things got muddled.

Eventually things got straightened out and a single show was held on the quidditch pitch. The reasoning seemed to be that it would put the spectators far enough away from the animals that the unicorns wouldn't freak from being near older pupils. The hippogriffs wouldn't freak from being around stupider pupils. And no one who wasn't comfortable around them would need to freak about the thestrals.

Not surprisingly, Patil Parvati and Padma won the pairs/unicorns competitions, but there was some surprise that Sally-Ann Perks won second place in single unicorn AND first place in single/thestral/air. The thestral riding club hadn't planned on a competition, and when the teachers had said what they had planned, the thestral riding club refused to change what they'd been planning on doing. So after their solo performances, they had put on a beautifully choreographed dance ballet, There were so many of them, that they took turns on the ground and in the air. Several people screamed or oohed and aaah'ed the first couple times they passed each other in close quarters, apparently synchronising wing beats so they didn't knock off each others riders was very impressive, though Harriet couldn't see it.

.

For her performance Harriet had learned a hair lengthening charm (which she hadn't actually used) and a weightlessness charm which she did use on her hair and on her unicorn's tail and mane. So that both their hair streamed out behind them like the sparks on her wand when she'd first tried it.

Harriet tried not to let that part of her artistic arrangement control which tricks she and her unicorn did, but there was a certain limit to what they could do without getting their hair tangled with each other.

After the show two of the judges independently decided to tell her that her score was enough that would have received fifth place if the awards had gone all the way to fifth place.

.

The hippogriffs were also impressive, more impressive, some said, because they were thought to be even more temperamental than unicorns. Tonks did not perform, because she said it wouldn't be right since she was also a judge. But she played with the others, when it came time for the group demonstration. They played quidditch, or pretended to, it wasn't clear. But several times it seemed like some of the tricks had been staged.

It was still impressive riding, and flying.

**Station**

The station came up soon. She knew enough not to exit the train without first looking out over the crowd to find her parents and identifying their trajectory. Circling the crowd toward the rear of the train. The Patils were skirting the crowd the opposite direction and had already joined forces with Mr. Malfoy and … that had to be a Davis.

Huh, she'd figured that the any Davis would rub Mr. Malfoy the wrong way.

She got her locker and headed toward where she expected her parents to be.

"Hi, Mum. Hi, Da."

"Good evening, Harriet," said Mum.

"Who's your tag-along?" said Da.

Harriet turned to find Draco right behind her.

"This is my … umm god-cousin, Draco Malfoy. Or whatever it's called when we share a godfather."

"Is this the same one who was trying to locate Harry Potter to impress you?" said her father.

Draco turned an odd shade of pink.

"I _think_ so," Harriet, "though I'm not sure what gave him the impression I'd find that impressive."

Draco seemed speechless to an unusual degree.

In the silence, she heard someone several yards and two conversations away saying, "Harry Matirni, … kept disappearing for days on end, … studying for bat mitzva … turned out … not Jewish at all."

"Just a second," she said "I'll be right back," she went and found the girl who'd been trying to form a coherent introduction without her subject in attendance.

She stood still for the introductions and made curtsies and shook hands and made gently impressed noises regarding the girl's abilities in transfiguration.

The parents made small talk and turned to their older son and the friends he wanted to introduce.

The girl pulled her away, "Why did you do that?" she said.

"Because you introduced me without mentioning Harry Potter even once," whispered Harriet.

The girl blinked, "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Are you in Ravenclaw?" Harriet said.

"Not when I'm on holiday," said the girl.

Harriet blinked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"That's my line," said the girl, "Why does my house matter."

"I'm just trying to figure out which rumours have gone where," said Harriet, "Never mind."

The girl shrugged, "Never mind, why did you tell them that about transfiguration."

"It's the only thing I know about you, other than that you're polite and in the synagogue club."

"That's _not _what it's called," said the girl.

Harriet shrugged, "What I'm trying to say is that I wanted to say something nice, and it was the only thing I knew, nice or otherwise."

"I'm not good at transfiguration," said the girl, "that's why they let me practice all the time."

"From the time you picked up your wand to the time the table changed size," said Harriet, "you are one of the fastest I've seen."

They blinked at each other.

"Not that I've had much chance to see anyone besides the professors, and first years," Harriet looked down.

"Alright," said the girl, "I get it. Thanks, then. I guess I'll see you next year."

"Yeah," said Harriet.

.

So… now she had an idea of how fast her _slowest _peers might be by third or fourth year.

Harriet made her way back to her parents, who had been joined by the Patils and the Malfoys and the Davises.

Draco was talking to Mr. Patil, Tracy was talking to Padma.

Mr. Malfoy was talking to Tracy's Parents. Da was looking at Draco and not talking to anyone. Mum was talking to Mrs. Malfoy, apparently about the time she tried to seduce Professor Snape with a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks', and gotten an ally instead of a friend. Except she seemed to be leaving that part out.

Harriet went and stood next to her father to try to see everything from his perspective. He didn't know any of these people except the Patils.

"What do you see?" Da said.

"I see politics happening poorly," said Harriet.

"Ah!" said Da and crouched so that he could mutter back, "And what ought to happen or happen differently for them to happen properly?"

"Tracy's parents need to tell Tracy what they want for her and believe she deserves, and then trust her find it for herself."

"Tracy is the one talking to Padma?"

"Yes."

"What else?"

"Padma needs to give Draco permission to ask Patil Paul what he really wants to ask."

"Ah," said Da, "are you sure he doesn't want to ask me that?"

"I'm fairly sure not," said Harriet, "but perhaps he'll change his mind later."

"If he did, would you give him permission to ask."

"No," said Harriet, "as long as we're sort of friends because of being god-cousins, the type of chaperonage required for things to remain 'appropriate' is minimal. If that changed, I have no idea how he would act. Then again the older kids act strange enough regardless of chaperonage that perhaps that oversight would become a good thing. So… whatever."

"So you don't look on him with 'favour'."

"As a friend and political mentor, yes, as a candidate for romance, no."

"Ah!" said Da, "What else do you see?"

"Parvati isn't here," said Harriet, "Have you seen her?"

"Not yet," he said and stood up to look around.

"Draco," called his mother, "Where's your friend Blaise?"

"Over by the floos," said Draco, "near the muggle healers."

"Ah," she said, "I did wish to speak to his mother."

"Go ahead," said Mr. Malfoy, "we'll join you shortly."

"Parvati seems to be with a group of older girls of a certain build," said Da.

"That's probably the unicorn riding club."

"That would _not _have been my first guess," he said, "over there."

Harriet looked, "Oh, _that_ 'build'. That's Lavender Brown's clique."

"Should I be concerned?"

"I doubt it," said Harriet, "Parvati has been a tomboy for a long time, it's alright with me if she checks out the opposite extreme for a bit."

"Oh I see," he said, "how about you?"

"How about me what?"

"Are you going to start obsessing over your looks?"

"Dad?" said Harriet, "What do _I _have to obsess over?"

"Hmm," he said, "perhaps you're right."

"Though I suppose I will start carrying a makeup case around so that people will be less annoyed when I come out of the bathroom looking … exactly the way I want."

"That might be wise," he said, "speaking of, I heard you learned how to transfigure contacts and wigs."

"Where did you hear that?"

"A little bird told me."

"I doubt it."

"Perhaps a large greasy bat?"

Harriet burst out laughing. "That's … don't call him that, I like him."

"Fine," he said, "but he seemed to think that we should be impressed."

"I had someone else do the wig," said Harriet, "but I got pretty good with the contacts, and figuring it out helped with about half my other transfigurations."

"Good job," he said.

She blinked at him and held up her hand.

He gave her a high five.

She grinned.

She was home.

Maybe it was only for the holidays, maybe they hadn't arrived back at where the circus was camped along with her siblings and cousins. But here were her parents.

And what else was 'home' supposed to mean?

**{End Chapter 15}**


	16. Yule

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Party**

Professor Snape was invited over on the evening of the 21st.

Harriet wore her full Titania costume, just in case. The adults had a rollicking good time and the children stayed out of the way, actually the little-uns played sardines, and no one cared, because everyone knew that they knew how to shut off power before they went climbing inside machinery. And to generally stay away from the magical supplies and workshops at night.

Harriet kept watch but never saw Professor Snape show up. She stayed with the middle sized children and discussed how childish the adults were being. And the true meaning of winter solstice and other things like that. Even though she'd rather be with her big brother and Parvati and the rest of the little-uns.

Eventually she realised that her brother was in the circle of big-uns and staring at her in a most uncharacteristic fashion. And that the adults music was loud enough that she could barely hear what anyone was saying anyway.

She crossed to him, and curtsied, and shouted over the music, "Dietrich, may I have this dance?"

He raised an eyebrow like Mum instead of like Uncle Milosh, "If you're sure," he said.

She pouted.

He stood up and bowed. And they swept away.

After several turns a good portion of the rest of the big-uns stood up and danced too.

Dietrich wasn't his usual self, either in the knowing where to step department, or in the enjoying showing off his flourishes department.

And being embarrassed to be dancing with his little sister wasn't enough to account for the difference. Unless he missed having her around more than he'd managed to say in the last two days.

The music faded, and the dancing stopped, "who are you and what did you do with Dietrich," she muttered, putting her hand into her pocket.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Matirni."

"I almost recognised that," she said, "try again."

"Surely you don't blame me for not wanting to join them …" he sighed and nodded sideways at the noise of the adults' party.

She compressed her lips, "can't you change size without borrowing someone else's face, and especially voice?"

"No I can't,"

"Oh," she said, "Polyjuice."

"Quite,"

"Oh, ok then," she said, "but … do I know you?"

"Yes, Harry, I'm sure you do,"

"Uncle Severus?"

"Quite," his eyes danced. Not in a happy twinkle, but alert to something behind her.

She looked around. Her cousins were bunching, waiting to see what was going on, ready to back her up if need be.

"It's just my godfather," she said, "playing tricks so he can be at our party instead of with the adults."

"Is that cool, or creepy?" said one of the girls.

"Both," said Padma, "but probably mostly cool, I've seen him petting unicorns."

"Is that a euphemism for something?" said one of the recent runaways to join the circus, he'd quickly found a place helping the carpenter with all the upholstery and repairing stage curtains.

"No," said Harriet.

"Isn't he kind of old for it not to be a euphemism for something?"

Silence. Not-Dietrich clenched his teeth, Harriet didn't think anyone else could see it.

"Or am I the only one who remembers the greasy guy in the seventies suit you led through here last summer calling your godfather."

"Alright fine," said Harriet, "It's a euphemism for, the girl he fell in love with died before he could propose."

"Aww," said half the girls.

Harriet closed her eyes and clenched her own teeth to keep from screaming at them.

"I'll leave if you wish, Harry," said Not-Dietrich.

_I don__'t want you to leave, just take off the disguise. _If she said _that _out loud, she would _never _live it down. And dear god they'd talk enough so fast he'd learn everything. Not that she minded, but … she wasn't quite sure she could trust him not to spill.

"If they won't be nice," said Harriet with a sniff, "they shall have to get along without us," she stalked past him in the direction of the adults' party, but grabbed his sleeve on the way past.

When they were in the darkness and the conversation had begun to crescendo behind them she whispered, "how much longer do you have before that wears off?"

"I've got two additional doses," he said, "so up to two and a quarter hours, minimum."

"Will you ruin those clothes if you don't get fair warning?"

"Temporary shrinking charms," he said, "they'll be fine."

"So they aren't Dee's clothes."

"No," he said, "I draw the line well before borrowing someone else's clothes without asking when other techniques will do."

"Alright," she said.

"Where are we going?" he said.

"I assumed that you only left the adults' party to come look for me," she said, "but we can go somewhere else,"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Dad's wagon," a shrug, "or the soap vendor's stall, if you want familiar smells, or toward the kitchens if we want chairs, or … or the field on the other side of parking lot if you want somewhere dark to look at the stars."

"You make it sound like a date,"

"I meant to sound hospitable,"

"Well you succeeded at that too,"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be inappropriate, I'm not used to the 'keeping track of the whole other half of adult honor' yet."

"Yet you're not running screaming back to your friends,"

"If I didn't trust you, life in slytherin would be extremely difficult,"

"In slytherin everyone knows who I am, and hold me accountable not just for what I do, but for what happens regardless of whether I condoned it directly or by neglecting to put proper barriers in place by means of rules and instructions to prefects, etc."

"Well, yeah," said Harriet, "but I told the rest of them who you were."

"Will they believe you."

"Once they catch Dietrich and determine that he was wearing different clothes all night, they will."

"Hmm," he said, "so next time I should polyjuice as you, and they'll believe anything I say?"

Harriet shuddered, "I wouldn't advise it… but … well anyway, have you ever poly-juiced as a girl before."

"Are you sure that's the sort of question you want to be asking?"

"I'm an actress, or that's what I was going to be before they told me I could be a witch, I thought poly-juice was an extremely interesting invention, call it professional curiosity."

"You are aware it takes several weeks to brew and some of its ingredients are fairly expensive?"

"Of course," she said, "and I calculated how much tickets would need to cost to cover the expense."

"Good good,"

She raised her hand halfway before letting it drop.

"You're right," he said, "that was bare minimum competence, not worthy of house points,"

"Actually," she said, "I was wondering what induced you to spend that much to come visit me."

"Your father is suspicious, I infer jealous. Which is normal for husbands of their wives earlier crushes. Especially when their wives greet former crushes with 'long lost friend' enthusiasm instead of with 'annoyed to see the ex again' disdain."

"If you hung around more and were more irritating," said Harriet, "she can do disdain well enough."

"I know that, that is why I tend to avoid coming around,"

"Oh." She said, "Now wait, do you mean you avoid coming around to avoid irritating her, or to avoid seeing her when she's irritated."

"Why not both?"

"Whatever, you never did answer me about polyjuicing as a woman."

"I have," he said, "to protect a woman whose house was about to be raided, and to ambush the perpetrators."

"Oh, wow," said Harriet.

"Now," he said, "You still haven't answered me about where you preferred to go."

"How do you feel about finding someplace dark and claustrophobic where the little-uns are sure to come across us, to see if we can hijack their game of sardines."

"That is disturbing on several levels," said Professor Snape, "not the least of which that it would ruin a game for the little-uns, at least by the rules I remember sardines only works if everyone knows how many players there are. Both sardine cans will be sitting forever waiting for the other portion of players to arrive."

"Hmm," said Harriet, "I guess I didn't think that through, but we can't just join their game with you looking like that. Dee would notice even if most of the others wouldn't."

"What do you suggest?"

"You could polyjuice as me, and I could put on makeup to be someone else."

"Is that the best you can come up with?"

"It was the first I came up with, hang on, you could polyjuice as any of my cousins that are with the adults but aren't too big to play sardines, if tonight wasn't a night that they're allowed to have spiced rum."

"I take it that you aren't impressed by spiced rum."

"Sure, when it's _cold _out, but I just came from Scotland."

"Quite," he looked her over appraisingly, "if I asked you where we should sit to raise the minimum level of suspicion when the adults do find out that I was here. Where would you suggest?"

"That is a different puzzle entirely," she said and frowned, "why not at the edge of the adults' party where they can see us, but assume we're deep in conversation mocking them or whatever. They'll leave us alone except the really drunk ones that wish to be mocked."

"Or to mock us for still being sober," he said.

"That too," she shrugged, "I'm not coming up with anything else."

"I suppose it will be sufficient," he said. And he turned toward the music. She followed him.

**Ball**

Severus didn't stay long after that, only to verify two things, no one seemed to think twice about the children twelve and above having access to the spiced rum, and that several people stopped by to pay their respects to 'the Queen'/Harriet. Which Harriet accepted, with either her own dignity, or with dignity befitting Titania herself.

He excused himself and walked to the quiet end of the parking lot that Harriet had pointed out and apparated to Wiltshire and went in the servants' entrance making several stops to adjust his appearance and wardrobe before entering the cloakroom from below stairs and entering the Ball from almost the correct direction, and just before the Malfoys turned away from the door to lead the way to dinner.

"Hello Severus," said Lucius, "I wondered when you were going to allow everyone to know you'd arrived."

"Had to put in an appearance at another solstice party, the one interview I needed took longer than I expected."

"How did it go?"

"We can talk about it later. Meanwhile, my apologies for being late."

"Not at all, Are you in a hurry to speak to anyone before dinner?"

"Not especially, the night is young."

"And the morning hasn't even started yet."

Snape sighed in contentment.

"Yule is the feast that is _meant _to go all night," agreed Narcissa, "let me go check on the elves."

"I'm sure they can muddle through without you," said Lucius, "at least they usually can,"

"Quite," she said, "but this isn't usually,"

"I say," said Severus when she was gone, "since when do you invite the Davis line?"

"Since they bought out the right to play regent for the Bones seat on the board of governors,"

"I'm having trouble seeing Amelia parting with that little gem cheaply,"

"I doubt she did," sighed Lucius.

"Have they started politicking for anything in particular?"

"Yes, for economics and the free trade philosophy to be taught at Hogwarts and the Verges Institute,"

"Isn't free trade another name for capitalism?"

"Not exactly, or not the way they teach it, it also implies that instead of corporations being about raising money to supply tools to businesses which in turn sell products to the people and in turn recoup the costs of the investors and then pay interest of whatever form, these corporations are about learning the will of and meeting the needs of the people, the way they teach it, the government is just another corporation and if its products are inferior they should be replaced by the products of those of another corporation who can provide competing products at a better value."

"It's elegant," said Snape, "or sounds so when you're the one saying it, do they explain it so well?"

"Some of them, some of the time," said Lucius, "is that really all you have to say?"

"It's disturbing," said Snape, "I don't mind in theory, and generally in practice if the government were to choose to privatise the fulfilment of many of it's functions. Or outsourced the labour of providing those functions. But in general the replacement of whole government systems with others is always a noisome process."

"Quite," said Lucius, "If it does become required curricula, I would very definitely try to influence toward the idea that just as the market share between two competing corporations may take decades to swing, changing out somewhat working parts for unproven parts should not be attempted too precipitously."

"Which when one is discussing socialism, is called progressive, what is it called when discussing this 'free trade' philosophy?"

"I have no idea, but I shall consider it 'the sane approach' until there is a name. Here's Narcissa."

"Welcome back," said Severus.

"All is in readiness," said Narcissa taking Lucius' elbow.

"Shall we?" said Lucius and escorted her through the buzzing hall and down into the dinning room.

The guests followed. Very few didn't already know their place.

The Davis clan for instance guessed wrong by only two families.

...

"You're still here," said Lucius, "What's this all about?"

"If you heard Draco say, and I quote, but not Draco," began Severus, " 'I know more than mother thinks I do, but probably less than father believes I've figured out,' what would you think and how concerned would you be.

"It would depend entirely on the topic," said Lucius, "who really said that?"

"Someone who I imagine could become be Draco's opposite number in the next generation."

"Well that was my first thought," said Lucius, "surely not the Flint boy."

Severus snorted, "Flint plays a straight game, he can keep up with his father's expectations with no difficulty."

"Don't keep me guessing,"

"First tell me your impression."

"First tell me at least some context as to the topic being discussed."

"She was discussing a family secret, or more exactly a secret that had been entrusted to her family."

"Harriet Matirni regarding the whereabouts of Harry Potter," said Lucius.

"Extremely close."

"An eleven year old who has not deduced a few of the family secrets is not paying attention, an eleven year old who has deduced them and realises they are secrets without needing to be told is just slightly above normal, an eleven year old who is capable of keeping them is a find, one who also can keep her story in synchrony with the rest of the family is a rare find in deed."

"Well she's twelve, and she doesn't seem capable of that quite yet."

"So you know where he is?"

"No," said Severus, "only that he missed his cousin-and-fully-trusted-agent's twelfth birthday and confirmation-or-something-like-it party. Though perhaps the fact that it wasn't held until yule meant he had responsibilities elsewhere, but he's lived in such obscurity I can't imagine what those might be."

"Is that what that invitation Draco received was about?"

"Probably,"

"He refused to show it to me. I wondered what it could be."

They were silent for a moment.

"It occurs to me," said Lucius, "That there is a difference between obscurity and hermitage, perhaps he had just as pressing an engagement elsewhere and explaining his absence to his cousin who knows of his double life was easier than explaining to his other acquaintance that he wasn't the unattached orphan that he pretended to be, or whatever it is that he's pretending to be."

"That had crossed my mind," said Severus, "but it doesn't strike me as fitting the type of family dynamic that I see flowing around Harriet and most of her cousins. And even the other children of the circus members, (whom she, more likely than not, calls 'cousins' in spite of the lack of family relations)."

"Did she seem disappointed in his absence?"

"I had more of a feeling that she was disappointed to be carrying an adult's level of honour and dignity, while at home, she didn't mind it at school, but what good is a holiday when one isn't permitted to let their hair down and relax among friendly faces."

"Well, that's to be expected," said Lucius, "but … hmm, you're implying these discrepancies, what do you make of them?"

"There were several times tonight that I was reminded much more strongly of her aunt than of her mother."

"That's an odd thing to say, you mean her Aunt Potter, not one of her Slovakian relatives?"

"Slovenian, yes, she reminded me strongly of Lily."

"That is an odd thing to hear from you," said Lucius, "from you specifically I mean, from anyone else it would just be about apples not falling far from trees, but you knew both of them. And…"

"You can say it."

"And you were in love with one of them."

"And I was in desire of an alliance with the other,"

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, Petunia would have been in Slytherin, if she could have wielded a wand," said Snape, "As it was … anyway if the other had died, and Harriet had been raised by Evans, that girl might not be in slytherin, perhaps not in gryffindor either judging by the way she … tries to treat her cousins and her professors, though circumstances and prejudice might sometimes block her from treating both how she wishes at once."

"Are you implying badger or raven?"

"She's plodding through the portion of the restricted section that Dumbledore gave her access to, and as best as I can tell she's moving at a badger's pace, not a raven's pace. Which I take as evidence that she might finish."

"I don't get it," said Lucius, "slitherins aren't given access to the restricted section, ravens and badgers are given access. Slitherins negotiate access, or sneak in."

"I may not have seen all the letters exchanged, but Potter negotiated access for her like he was dealing with a shrewd but begging gryffindor, Dumbledore granted access as if he were a clueless gryffindor negotiating with a undisciplined Ravenclaw. Harriet has been taking advantage of the windfall like a conscientious Badger trying to keep a desirable internship."

Lucius purred, "I shall advise Draco to snap her up if she ever slips through Potter's grasp."

"Of course," said Severus, "I doubt he needs telling. I also doubt she is aware of a better alternative at this point."

"Surely Dumbledore has attempted to line up something?"

"Two blood traitors, and two or more conscientious mudbloods, so far by the time he notices compatibility they've already made contact, she's formed an opinion and matched them to another friend. Or in one case, they matched themselves without her help and retreated before formally joining her retinue."

"Oh? What was different in that case?"

"One of the mudbloods, oddest thing, bullied all morning, didn't show up for dinner, did Draco tell you about the excitement on hallows eve?"

"Said there were rumours of a troll but nothing to show for it."

"There was a troll, almost certainly a plant by our suspicious friend. Anyway, both bullies realised she hadn't shown up for the feast and therefore hadn't heard about the troll, so they took responsibility for the danger they might have put her in and went looking for her to tell her the news, they didn't find her but found the troll, and killed it. She was found safe in her bed. Another student also left the feast early and was found in his bed. They both went around all the next day asking about the troll. Somehow they turned missing out on the excitement and investigating it after the fact, into a bonding experience."

"Ravenclaws?"

"Gryffindor and Slytherin,"

"Who's the Slytherin?"

"Master Zabini,"

"Does she know his family history?"

"What about it?"

"Did he notice something resembling a lack of situation awareness and decide to groom her for his first true meal?"

"There is no evidence that is the half of his mother's heritage that he inherited."

"He's only eleven, would there be?"

"Something to ask Ollivander,"

"Ollivander is bloody expensive."

"It doesn't matter for several years yet, perhaps there will be other signs."

"Perhaps," agreed Lucius.

"Speaking of, has anyone warned the Davis clan about Master Zabini's mother?"

"No, and I don't intend to," said Lucius, "they are annoying, and I can't imagine a more deserving heiress to the fortune."

"I believe it is entailed, I've caught Tracy looking through legal works, apparently researching how to get out of the various responsibilities she stands to inherit."

"That doesn't surprise me, perhaps they are safe. Which particular responsibilities does she find onerous?"

"She has not confided that to me,"

"Well no matter, surely there isn't a clause blocking her from hiring agents to take care of most of her responsibilities."

"Most of them, yes,"

"And of course, I suppose Blaise is always available to snap up the fortune next generation if it's not available this generation."

"I remember when you were more concerned with making your own fortune than in consolidating influence away from your rivals."

"There's always room for both," said Lucius, "weren't we discussing Miss Matirni and her Heir Potter?"

"You say that like…"

"I've always assumed they were intended."

"First of all they are cousins, If Petunia's husband's family is trying to capture prolonged influence over the Potter line, they could use any of Harriet's other cousins and be match making with unrelated children, not with first cousins."

"Hmm," said Lucius, "do the muggles still care about such things, there is magic for repairing blood so that cousins are perfectly safe."

"I've studied some of those formula and many annotations regarding them, and I haven't seen much evidence that any of them had a clear idea of what they are trying to accomplish. And there are various pedigrees where they were relied on that convince me they don't work, or aren't reliable."

"Surely…" Lucius frowned, "well never mind, I never liked the idea much myself, but I'm not particularly against it if others choose to live that way."

"Quite," said Severus, "but the simplest extrapolation is that everyone else says the same, which leads to the assumption that Potter will not marry his cousin, or perhaps anyone who he thinks of as a cousin, even if they aren't technically."

"Fair enough," said Lucius, "and from what you've said, the whole herd of them run together like siblings?"

"A fair approximation," said Severus, "If he does marry inside the family, I expect it will be some rarely seen acquaintance from the wilderness of Slovenia, not one of his many 'cousins' in Britain, or whoever Harriet brings home to set him up with. … Actually I can imagine them arranging each others' marriages, or I can imagine him letting her arrange his, from the tone of his letters I mean, I'm less clear whether she'd let him arrange hers."

"That sounds like a reversal of standard line-client relationship, well for career nepotism, not for marriage."

Severus shrugged.

"If she's not taken … she's been spending a lot of time with Draco. Does she have designs on him, or vice versa?"

"Draco and Blaise spend a large amount of their unstructured time around Harriet and her friends, I believe both of them are rumoured to have hmm proposed closer friendships, without implying that they are old enough for romance. The rumours aren't clear whether Draco made the offer to Miss Greengrass or Miss Patil."

"I can't imagine Blaise trying to imply that he isn't old enough for romance."

"Yes, he would, if he were trying to imply that he knew his intended wasn't old enough to look on him with favour yet."

"Ah," said Lucius, "I suppose, but no one would believe him, unless they thought he meant in comparison to what he's used to seeing at home. Anyway, which Miss Patil?"

"Padma, the Ravenclaw, is the one who spends time around the library four."

"Library four?"

"Harriet Matirni, Hermione Granger, Padma Patil, and Daphne Greengrass, though if you ask them they will use the reverse order. Lead with the purebloods don't you know."

"Patils are pure blood?"

"In their country they are, and (rumour has it) royalty of some sort."

"How so?"

"The way their traditions keep track, squibs don't break the line,"

"Of course not… Ah, I see. And Draco has already offered alliance of some sort to the … non-gryffindor of the two? Hmm, intriguing."

"I'm sure,"

"I wonder what the proper protocol is. What region of India, do you know?"

"I don't," said Severus.

"Did you say what the Library Four _is_?"

"They are constructing a card catalogue, which is how Muggles get around not having searching spells. And petitioning for the adoption of a more extensive standard system for where books are shelved, which would simplify their task or even make it work more permanently."

"I suppose having such a thing available for the forth years and below would be beneficial," said Lucius, "I'm not sure how I feel about the OWL pupils having an easy out if they don't manage the library spells,"

"That's my opinion as well," said Severus, "though I might not have said it so well."

"I shall write a letter to Pince and Dumbledore expressing my views," said Lucius, "was there anything else we needed to discuss."

"I still haven't resolved my thoughts about Harriet, and whatever it is that her parents are hiding from her."

"What are they hiding from her?"

"Which of her cousins is the real Harry Potter."

"Wait," said Lucius, "she knows one of her cousins is Harry Potter but doesn't know which one?"

"That's the shape of it from her perspective. And her father apparently recopies all Potters letters to her so that she won't be able to track him down that way either."

"And from her parent's perspective?"

"She's not to be told. The costume she came up with for Hallows eve was imagined from a picture of her late aunt and uncle and the rumour of a curse scar on the rescued baby ten years ago."

"How has she not identified which of her cousins has a curse scar on his forehead?"

"There are more scars than blades of grass, and more makeup than ink in that camp, of course she doesn't know whose scars are real and whose are not, until for whatever reason he sits under her brush to get makeup for some reason. And even then, there's no telling if she'll recognise what she's seeing. Unless she tries to heal it. Hmm."

"I know that expression, what's up?"

"She has an odd connection to the hospital wing, and Ollivander mentioned her wand might guide her in healing or some such."

"Ah yes, chimera tendon," said Lucius, "also good for shields, tends to show up in auror types as well as healers."

"There is that," said Severus, "and bat-shit insane villain-hermits in rural France."

"Between you and me," said Lucius, "I always wondered if that wasn't an Italian auror who finally cracked, and ran away before he was 'forced to retire'."

"I imagine drawing overtime in Sicily could do that to someone," said Severus, "one of the reasons I didn't use the auror scholarship to get my potions Mastery."

"Are you suggesting that an ambush by some of Britain's indigenes might be worse than one by Sicilians.

"I'm thinking that facing drunk Irishmen not meaning any harm but too drunk to restrain themselves might be more wearing than an occasional ambush designed by Sicilians, with every intention of mayhem."

"Ah. Leaving aside whether it's the Irish or the Welsh that are more affected by Alcohol."

"It's the Scots that seem to fight like Irish and appreciate alcohol the way the Irish do but can't hold it even as well as the Welsh."

Lucius snorted, "and we're not staying on topic which implies I've had enough. What about the green eyes and awful hair that she made up, are those tells that she ought to have recognised already?"

"A lot of her father's family have green eyes, Petunia doesn't but I imagine seeing them around all those years ago made her feel at home. Harriet's are quite green in some lights, but not normally. As to hair … so far as I can tell her father's family have mostly straight, well-behaved hair. The cousin I was introduced to as Harry Potter, and who responded to his Gringotts key as if he felt it recognise him, though that could have been faked just as much as his green eyes. His hair was messier than the norm among the Slovenian side of the family, but he had it combed _almost_ neatly. If it's anything like James' he put in some time and effort getting it to stay down."

"So from a normal population he'd show up, green eyes, messy hair, curse scar, but among his own family he fades in, even though none of them have _curse _scars or _messy _hair."

"Perhaps in a year or two," said Severus, "when his age mates slow down and muss their hair less, he'll stand out more. On the other hand if he's already conscientious about it, he may find the charms to keep it in check long before then."

"True, true," said Lucius, "The only fool proof method was to wait until another chance allows another interview, and put a tracking charm on him."

"I'm sure his family would notice right away and have it removed."

"They're muggles."

"They're squibs," said Severus, "and they notice the presence of magic _extremely _quickly." _Well some things, they didn__'t take the tracking charm off the organ until he told them about it, and now they just had shield rods around it, so they can alert the aurors to their presence any time they wish but don't advertise when they don't feel like it._

"Huh," said Lucius, "well anyway, tell me about our suspicious friend,"

"Still avoiding me, Harriet mentioned him spending a lot of time in the restricted section among the potions stacks."

"Is that all?" said Lucius.

"That's all."

"Odd,"

**{End Chapter 16}**


	17. New Year

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Train**

The train started. Harriet got her things settled in Hermione's compartment, then waited patiently for everyone to become mostly settled and the hallways to clear before she made her way toward the front, looking for Anthony Goldstein's compartment.

She found it and knocked, they shrunk the table and opened the door to let her in.

"I talked with Uncle Shabazian's and he's letting me borrow a lot of books, they're pretty interesting, so umm thanks."

They stared at her. "What exactly are you trying to tell us?" said the biggest boy.

"I'm not sure, I just wanted to say thanks."

"Are you considering converting or something?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," said Harriet, "maybe I'm just starting to become more like my father."

"Ah,"

There didn't seem to be much more to say, "alright, I'll see you around," she said and went out.

"Are you sure she's not a raven?" said someone as the door closed.

_Why had that been so hard?_ Harriet toured the rest of the train. Just as she was glancing into one compartment that had been drastically expanded somehow she caught sight of Neville motioning her to join them.

So she did. He was in the middle of a game of gobstones with several other first and second years.

"Who's that?" said a second year.

"This is Miss Matirni," said Neville, "she's the one who rescued me from older Slytherins several times and once from Hufflepuffs."

"I thought I told you to keep quiet about that," said Harriet, "_no one _knows who that was. I meant it to stay that way."

Neville stared at her, "No one would believe me, now that you've confirmed it in front of six of us, most still won't believe me."

Harriet frowned and tried to understand how he could be making that much sense and still be going about things backwards, "You're thinking about epistemology like a gryffindor, I told you not to tell, therefore …"

They all stared at her like she was either crazy or a slytherin… for them both might amount to the same thing. Ron took a long time to warm up to Blaise, and it might have been longer before things worked out with Draco if Daphne hadn't intervened. Off topic! Neville.

"I suppose your honour was involved in some way?" said Harriet, "They wanted to know how you'd gotten hurt?"

"Both how I'd gotten hurt and how I'd gotten away again," said Neville.

"Of course," she said, "I'm sorry, I should have given you an actual true story that left me out of it instead of expecting you to comprehend and improvise in the state you were in."

A third year Gryffindor was nodding along, the rest of them were looking at her like she had three heads.

"I'm not sure I can accept that apology," said Neville, "it sounds messed up somewhere."

"Never mind," said Harriet.

"Are you going to sit down and play?" said someone.

"Not like this," said Harriet.

"Would you prefer exploding snap?" said Neville.

"Sure," said Harriet.

She heard older Weasleys talking about her several times, but nothing she had to respond to.

...

"Where _were_ you?" said Draco when she returned.

"Playing exploding snap with Neville," she said.

Everyone looked up. Then around and back to her.

"We don't believe you," said Draco.

Harriet shrugged, "That apparently is basically what the gryffindors have been telling him about me helping him to the hospital wing all those times."

"All which times?" said Daphne. _What was Daphne doing in here?_

"This is not for public consumption," said Harriet, "Flint and Burgess."

"Of course it's not," said Daphne and shivered.

"Those two make me so mad," said Tracy, "what kind of reputation are we supposed to uphold when they—" she dissolved into growls of rage.

So she wasn't going to lose friends over it, or at least not directly. Which way the rest of the house fell would be interesting.

Professor Snape was another issue, she had the feeling he'd give her understanding eyes, and reprimand her for getting caught.

Ugh, bullying messed up everything.

So could keeping secrets, but at least she could mostly manage that.

"So," said Draco, in an obvious but welcome change of subject, "anyone get anything interesting for Christmas?"

"By interesting," said Tracy, "do you mean unbearably expensive but useless, or do you mean instantly sentimental, or do you mean some other more subtle sort of message, or do you mean actually interesting."

"You're welcome to talk about the former," said Draco, "but I was asking about the latter."

"I got a book," said Padma, and lifted the book from her lap and put it back down. Emphasising that it was interesting enough that she didn't plan to forgo reading it in order to take a grater part in the conversation.

"I envy you," said Daphne, "my most interesting gift was a charm bracelet with several charms transfigured from sickles. No, I'm not going to show it off."

"Umm?" said several people.

"It's probably also the most sentimental," said Daphne, "but the biggest message it sends to anyone other than me is that my sister has convinced Mum to get her a wand and transfiguration tutoring."

"Isn't Astoria like … six?" said Tracy.

"Pretty much," said Daphne.

"Impressive," said Draco.

Daphne shrugged, "you might not be so sure if you saw the results."

Draco shrugged, "I petitioned for tutoring from age five and didn't anything worth speaking of until age eight. So that's impressive even if the work is what you'd expect from a six year old."

Daphne conceded the point and sat back.

"I got lent an old invisibility cloak," said Harriet, "It wasn't exactly a present, but it umm thinks it's mine."

Everyone sat forward, "how old?" said someone.

"I don't know," shrugged Harriet.

"Who gave it to you?"

"Heir Potter," said Harriet, "He said someone gave it to him in Dumbledore's name. But he doesn't quite believe it, and he thinks that even if it is from Dumbledore, there might be some sort of trace on it. So he told me to keep track of it for the time being. I think he wants it inside Hogwarts' unplotable wards."

"Do you know who made it?" said Daphne, "there aren't that many manufacturers who can make them keep working for more than a couple years, even fewer that are good for more than a couple decades."

Tracy perked up, "Can we see it?"

"I guess," said Harriet and pulled out her trunk.

Draco giggled.

"What?" said Blaise.

"Watch closely," said Draco, "We'll know she wasn't using it to hide from us earlier, if it's actually in her trunk, and not in her pocket."

Harriet pulled it out. It didn't want to be handed about, but it didn't mind being looked at and admired.

She closed the trunk and spread it out on top so she could hold on to it without being obvious. She spread it out so the inside showed of course or there would have been problems. No point in everyone tripping over an invisible trunk.

"It's beautiful," said Tracy.

Daphne spread it out farther so she could look at the lining of the collar, "Here's a symbol," she said, "I've seen it before."

"I have too," said Harriet, "but I don't remember where."

"That's on lots of things," said Blaise, "It was a popular tattoo among Grindelwald's secret enforcers, and their sympathisers, but it's much older."

"What does it mean?" said Harriet.

"Things like Protection, Privacy, Secrecy, Death, Supremacy, Power," Blaise shrugged, "the sorts of things all super spies everywhere would identify with, if identifying with something weren't a dangerous step away from flexibility and toward identifiablity."

"It's a perfect tool for assassinations," said Draco, "How many people's blood do you suppose are on it?"

Tracy shivered. And smiled.

"Someone tripped over me and spilled wine on it the first time I tried it out," said Harriet, "it didn't stain or get sticky or anything." In fact it seemed thankful for being fed.

"Demiguise fur will absorb blood and fat in a matter of minutes," said Daphne, "but nothing plant based, seems like I've heard of this."

"Don't demiguise live where they can stay on rock and ice most of the time?" said Padma.

"Well yeah, they're in the Yeti family," said Draco.

"So having their fur stay free of plant material might be a lot less important than it might be for invisible creatures from a more temperate area."

"Such as thestrals," said Hermione.

"Right," said Blaise, "except thestrals don't have hair."

"I've heard that they do," said Daphne with a frown, "is their hair more invisible than the rest of them?"

"Hmm, perhaps," said Blaise, "we can try to pet one on the way to the castle,"

"I'm not taking a detour through the forbidden forest to answer a trivia question about Harriet's cloak," said Padma.

"That's not what I'm saying," said Blaise, "the thestrals pull the carriages to and from the train."

Everyone looked at him.

"Can none of the rest of you see them, yet?" said Blaise, "Huh, I hadn't realised that. Congratulations I guess." He looked away. Everyone else looked away. Daphne traced the symbol with her finger again and sat back.

"If it is thestral hair," said Daphne, "that's a second association with death. But also with group loyalty, thestrals are pack hunters, supposed to be loyal like dogs."

"Interesting," said Harriet. And twice as creepy that Harry didn't want it.

_Death as in death or death as in Death?_

"Alright," said Harriet, "I know enough muggle medicine to get the connections between poisons and cleanliness and between cleanliness and health. Therefore between poisons and health. But what's the connection between protection and death?"

"Privacy and death," said Blaise, "Is simple: 'dead men tell no tales,' Ultimate protection and death goes both ways: If you bother me I'll kill you, or the other way if you pressure me too much, I'll kill myself and you won't have any leverage at all."

"And supremacy?" said Daphne.

"I'm less certain that was original to the symbol, or if like privacy and secrecy, or if it came later with all the various cult groups adopting the symbol."

"I think it _is _original," said Daphne, "I know I've seen this on something really old in the last month."

"I was going to say last three months," said Harriet, "and I don't know the second thing about Grindelwald's followers."

Padma glanced up, blinked, "Whoa whoa wait a minute here people." She stood up and looked around at everyone.

Everyone looked at her, "Bad trip?" said Blaise, "it takes some pretty intense poetry to pull me under that thoroughly."

Padma pointed at the cloak, "please tell me that is a rip-off, not the original."

"The original what?"

"Invisibility cloak," said Padma.

"People have been making invisibility cloaks for thousands of years," said Daphne reasonably, "less than one in a thousand last more than a generation."

Padma stood still, "father to son, passed on by Dumbledore? lent to you, lent to Dumbledore, belongs to Potter. Does it really belong to Potter?"

"Where are you going?" said Daphne.

Padma turned to Draco, "The Potter line, does it lead back to Peverells?"

"Peverells?" said Harriet and nearly everyone else.

"Well yeah, same as the Gaunts, you think someone is killing off all the Peverell lines?"

"Hadn't thought about that," said Padma, "I thought we should check if that," she pointed sideways at the chest she was standing over a foot from, "is a deathly hallow."

"Oh," said Daphne, "_that _book, yeah that's what I was reading."

"Merlin!" said Tracy, "I don't believe it."

"Deathly Hallow, hmm" said Harriet, _this was your father__'s he lent it to me before he died, I realised it was time to pass it to you._

"How would we test that?" said Blaise, "no one's going to cast curses at her to see what it blocks."

Draco turned to her, then glanced sideways at her hand resting reassuringly on the cloak, "you said something about it talking to you?"

Harriet blinked, "I wouldn't call it 'talking,' but yes, it seems to think at me or something, sometimes."

"And it recognises you as Harry Potter, just like most everything else in the magical world does?"

"I hadn't thought of that," said Harriet.

"And it's rightful owner?" said Draco.

"Kind of?" said Harriet.

Draco nodded, "Do you want to model it for us?"

Harriet shrugged, "sure, alright" and put it on.

Draco whispered something and Blaise pulled out his wand at the same time as Draco.

"Point me, Harriet Matirni," said Blaise. His wand wriggled in his hand but didn't point anywhere in particular.

Draco's wand did the same.

"Did you really cast wordlessly?" said Blaise.

Draco grinned, "of course, did yours take and fizzle?"

"It took," said Blaise, "and technically it hasn't fizzled, it just hasn't found anything yet, I can keep it up another minute if I don't get distracted."

"Interesting distinction," said Draco and frowned at his wand, it jerked a little more and tried to roll.

"Interesting," said Harriet and took off her hood, "so it hides me from magic?" both boys' wands twisted to point at her.

"Sure does," said Draco looking up, but his eyes were hooded.

"Sure," said Padma "but did anyone try, point me deathly hallow." Her wand twitched a little but didn't point at Harriet.

"Point me, the Peverell cloak," said Padma, It turned and pointed.

The cloak and Harriet flinched together, though no one could see it.

"That's it then," said Blaise.

Harriet put the hood back up and Padma glanced down at her wand. "Hmm," she said, "point me nearest deathly hallow." Her wand jinked and lay unmoving, she shrugged, "out of my range,"

Draco held up his and tried. His wand pointed toward the back of the train. He moved it to the side until it pointed outside the train. Somewhere behind them. "Central or south England or France it looks like," he said, "That's interesting."

Harriet took off the hood and the wand spun back. It still made the cloak uncomfortable but this time she was prepared for it and managed to keep it reassured. Then she took it off and got ready to put it in her trunk, but somehow she didn't like the idea of leaving it unattended.

"Try farthest deathly hallow." Padma suggested,

Draco did his wand spun and pointed the same mostly southerly direction as before. "Is there only one left, or does someone already have two?"

"Surely it's not that easy or someone would have tracked down all three long before now," said Blaise.

"It's not," said Daphne, "only the elder wand passes it's loyalty to thieves, the other two must be bequeathed."

"It wouldn't surprise me if the Gaunts tracked down the deathstick before they disappeared," said Draco, "Do you suppose they are still around in hiding somewhere, or really truly gone?"

"I wouldn't go looking without a crack team of ward breakers," said Blaise, "I wouldn't put it past them to have a really killer set of wards."

Draco turned to watch Harriet trying to stuff the cloak into her pocket, "have some prowling planed later?"

"No," said Harriet, "it just … seemed lonely or something."

"Ever had your wand act that way?"

"No," she said, "My familiar though, yes."

He nodded, "It might make a difference if you'd ever met your wand's donor while it was alive."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "You did?"

"Sure," said Draco, "he's the unicorn that sought me out during that first riding club meeting."

"Yeah, but he sought out about a sixth of the club, I though a couple of the others did too, but I couldn't differentiate the others so well back then,"

"I'm probably not the only pupil with a wand from his hair. Or hair from one of the Hogwarts Unicorns."

...

When they reached Hogsmead station Blaise took everyone that wanted to go and pet a thestral. Only Harriet Draco and Daphne were interested. To Blaise' surprise they did have hair. But it was hard to feel, and apparently impossible to see, even for Blaise.

**Catalogue**

January passed without much excitement, except a beautiful piece of alabaster and obsidian furniture appeared in the library. It had a tiny brass plaque on the side that said, "Donated in memory of Edgar Bones, to house the Greengrass-Patil-Granger card catalogue. Given in respectful memory of Regulus Arcturus Black and Edgar Bones by the houses Malfoy, Davis, and Nott." There was also a crate of high quality low acid card stock.

There was much awe and a bit of bickering.

"I think," said Hermione when the bickering was getting just a bit thick, "we're going to have to add a list of our own, of everyone who's helped us make it."

"Everyone who contributes at least a hundred cards," said Daphne, "in high enough quality that we don't have to do them over."

"I was thinking more like twenty," said Hermione, "but yes, if you just want to take notes for someone else making cards, use your own parchment or whatever, these cards are expensive."

"They're just paper," said someone.

"Paper can last as long as parchment if it's made correctly," said Tracy, "this paper is."

"And there are runes of cleaning, repairing, and preservation worked into in the tracery," said a passing Ravenclaw, "Same as is on the book shelves. Someone is planning on this lasting several hundred years."

"No pressure," smirked Tracy, and skipped away.

After that there was a lot of interest from students who wanted to know what the catalogue was for, and how to use it. And a few who were interested in helping finish it. And gradually notes filtered in containing entries for various restricted books, mostly from sixth year ravenclaws, so far as anyone could tell, though none explained to the 'founders' of the catalogue who or what had convinced them to help.

**Birthday**

Severus was half way through dismissing his Thursday morning class when Harriet scampered in stuffed a stiff envelope in his hand and scampered back out again. There was no way she could be here without cutting class, transfiguration probably.

Which was probably the one class after Potions that she could afford to skip.

As soon as the class was dismissed he turned to the message and read it.

"Dear Godfather,

Happy Birthday, Harry found this in my Mum's things and wanted you to have it. Apparently his mum was trying to make a funny picture for you but didn't like the way any of them came out. But she kept this one so maybe she did want you to have it."

Love Harriet.

Happy Birthday.

The other thing in the envelope was a card with three muggle photos on it, one of Lily probably as a sixth year with her fingers tensed as if in claws, and her face twisted up into a cat's snarl. In the second photo her hair was swirling up above her head as if under water, a weightlessness charm and a breeze charms gone wrong, probably because of the confined space of the photo booth. The last one was black fuzz and black sparks and black lightening across plain white and a sliced off corner.

Lily had proven again why wizards didn't use magic around delicate muggle technology, and vice versa.

Snape looked again at the background.

If he had to guess, that was the photo booth at the Matirni circus. The second picture if it had come out how she'd probably intended could have been a scathing mockery of some of his styles…

Except he hadn't adopted most of those styles until years later.

Had she meant it as a warning? As a prophecy.

And 'didn't turn out right' could mean she didn't get the look she wanted. But saved them anyway?

It also might mean she broke the machine and never saw them. And it had been Petunia who'd rescued them when the machine was repaired, and had saved them ever since.

Not willing to throw them away, and not knowing enough back story to pass them along.

Or being jealous. Petunia could always manage that emotion even when all others failed her.

Severus doubted Petunia had authorised the two little urchins to pass it on to him.

How they could collaborate on things like this without knowing each other was baffling.

**{End Chapter 17}**


	18. Spring

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Spring**

February came and with it the older pupils mostly vanished into their own social circles, and then Quidditch resumed and everything went back to normal. Or as normal as it ever was with quidditch games coming up.

None of Harriet's friends were much into quidditch, except the boys. Personally Harriet couldn't wait for next year, when she and Parvati could have brooms and figure out exactly how much ballet and trapeze dancing could be done with them.

March came with another Quidditch game, and Harriet's part of the catalogue was finished. She had her first success from a restricted book that wasn't some sort of shield charm or healing spell.

...

Technically it was sort of a shield charm. She showed it to Draco later, demonstrating a spell was technically not showing him her notes.

"Have you seen this one?" she said, "Expecto Patronum." And she got a denser haze of silver sparks than she'd managed the previous two times.

"Sure," said Draco, "that's enough to annoy a dementor or lethifold, but not shake them off. They say you need a corporeal patronus to scare a dementor away."

"Hmm," she said.

"On the other hand," he said, "you've cast it one shield shaped, and for you that might be a powerful enough totem to do what you need."

"Hmm," she said.

He shrugged, "A lot of slytherins don't show off whether they can do it."

"Why not?"

"It's hmm how to say it, it's identifiable. Most people who can cast animals have different totems. Imagine everyone knowing that your uncle's totem was a stag, (actually that's a bit common in parts of Scotland). OK, the headmaster's totem is known to be a phoenix, same fire phoenix as his familiar. Now imagine he's polyjuiced as someone else because the aurors have asked him to assist with a touchy situation. If the touchy situation suddenly develops a dementor problem, boom everyone summons a patronus, boom polyjuice precautions are defunct because everyone knows that phoenix patronus was cast by Dumbledore. Even if it doesn't look like Dumbledore who cast it. And if you know Dumbledore is around I can tell you in three guesses where the rest of the team was drawn from, one or two other Identifiable totems and I won't need to guess."

"What are the three guesses?" said Harriet.

"Aurors, the Hogwarts staff, or the Order of the Phoenix,"

"What's the Order of the Phoenix?"

"A small band of vigilantes that opposed the dark lord during the last war,"

"Was your father a member? Before the imperious I mean."

Draco sniffed, "Father opposed politically, not sneaking around raiding and trying to outguess and ambush other raids."

"Oh, right," said Harriet, "this is your father we're speaking of … if he let his political game slide enough that he had to commit murder, he'd do it in front of the whole senate like Brutes."

Draco blinked several times, "I think," he said finally, "getting away with murder in public, would be proof of a political success, not of a failure."

"Barring the question of not managing to convert your opponent," said Harriet, "I suppose you're right."

Draco smiled benignly and said "quite," just the way his father would.

Harriet noticed her shield of sparks flickering and resumed the state of mind that she thought would bring it back to full brightness. It did. She let it fade and put her wand away.

"I've been looking through the cards you did for the catalogue," said Draco absently … _too _absently, what was he up to?

"Oh?" said Harriet.

"There are several books that look very interesting," he said.

"Most of those I don't have actual notes on yet," she said, "I had to trust the table of contents and the preface (if they even have them) that it was telling the truth about what the books were about."

He nodded, "It's always like that," he said, "I mean, oh never mind."

"I'm not going to steal them for you to read."

"I wasn't thinking of that," he said, "I was wondering if you'd mind if I accompanied you on some of your study expeditions, only … I'd be under your cloak."

"Oh," she said, "I hadn't thought of that."

"I thought of it the moment I saw it," he said, "but it took me until now to figure out how it could be used without messing up my sleep schedule, or drawing attention."

"You were going to sneak in and steal books at night,"

"That was my first thought, but if they were found missing you'd be blamed immediately," said Draco, "If I sit there and read them my light will almost certainly be noticed by the first professor or prefect who happens to glance in. Unless I restrict myself to only full moons and that wouldn't be nearly enough reading time. But if I'm there during the day, how noticeable would it be if there's a book laying open across the table from were you're studying and the wind blows the pages every now and then."

"The hardest part would be not talking to each other while we are studying," said Harriet, "we do that all the time."

"True," he said.

"If I say 'no, but I'm open to advice what to read next,'" said Harriet, "how badly would you hate me?"

"A blood feud to the seventh generation of course," he said and smirked, "actually that's a good compromise, and I want you to find the disillusionment charm for me. Actually it was going to be the first thing I went after if you had given me permission. I wasn't sure how easy your cloak is to lend out."

Harriet nodded, "What that one do?"

"Disillusionment? It does the same thing as the cloak, but not nearly as well."

"Oh,"

"Or rather, it makes you practically invisible to the eye. Which is different than _hiding _you from light and from magic. There are similar spells for hushing sound which is often good enough, though dogs, some snakes, and some sea animals can be trained to notice the difference between no sound emanating from a location, and all sound passing through a location being muffled."

"That's interesting," said Harriet.

"So yes or no?" said Draco.

Harriet reached inside her robes and put her hand into a big pocket she'd added just for carrying her cloak in.

"I'm still thinking," she said, and pulled it out, "Hold onto it for a minute."

Draco complied.

She thought about letting go, she thought about Draco, she thought about making him promise to bring it back, she thought about him being caught with it and it being confiscated regardless of what he may have promised.

"It won't go to you," she said, "not without you being some kind of loyal to the house and line of Heir Potter or giving certain kinds of … grown up oaths, or…" she shook her head, "it would hide you, but only while I was holding onto it and making it."

Draco rubbed his cheek then let go and rubbed his nose and eyebrow, "which might be useful in an emergency, but would be as pure a distraction from your studying as just switching to the book I wanted you to read and bringing me your notes."

Harriet nodded, and put the cloak away.

**Jelousy**

Ron's birthday arrived with the beginning of March. Hermione got him a quidditch book. Pansy, to everyone's surprise, got him a muggle chess magazine. It was a sought after discussion piece because of all the non-moving pictures.

Everyone else gave him candy.

...

"So are you two over each other now?" Padma asked Harriet during riding club.

"Who? Over what?" said Harriet.

"You and Draco."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"You used to talk all the time in Hermione's room, now it's all business."

"We're trying to practice so we get in less trouble in potions and transfiguration," said Harriet. Not quite true, more so that they wouldn't slip up in the library. Draco would come with her two out of three times, or sometimes meet her there.

But he would read whatever he wanted, not restricting himself to the part of the library that she had permission to access. It annoyed her somewhat. He would offer to show her his notes but she said she had enough to do at the moment.

"So you're _not _over him?" said Padma.

"He's like my cousin for real, but since we're sort of supposed to treat our whole house like cousins it's more like, I don't know, my brother or something. While we're here, so are you and Parvati, sort of."

"So I shouldn't be jealous?" said Padma.

"Padma!" said Harriet, "he thinks you're the mysterious and wise Indian princess. He thinks I'm the kid sister of his long lost Noble Cousin Heir of Potter. Who will pay him back eventually for being nice to me."

"That is such bullshit," said Padma, "you and your whole family knows that there is no Harry Potter, I don't know who's paying you to say otherwise, no one has seen him since the night his parents died, except the same person who claims that the dark lord was found burnt to a crisp. I don't see magical dental records being good enough to prove that it was the dark lord, and I don't see Harry Potter hiding among your cousins."

"I don't expect you to see him," said Harriet, "but I'd expect either of your parents to be able to see him."

"They haven't," said Padma, "the only wizard in the circus is your uncle Royce, and the only witches are us, you and his daughter Glenda who left for Hogwarts eight years ago and never came back."

That was news. Harriet remembered Glenda, vaguely, she used to babysit. Harriet would have guessed seven years not eight, but it had been an awfully long time ago.

Their mounts were not responding well to the strident tone of their voices.

"Padma," said Harriet, "can we please talk about this later?"

"Alright," said Padma, "Fine." And she kicked her mount into a trot.

Harriet sighed, and as she relaxed her unicorn slowed even more. Blaise and his mount walked up beside her, "Trouble in paradise?" he said.

"Apparently," said Harriet, "Though I have no idea what set her off."

"You'll figure it out soon enough," said Blaise, "invest in chocolate, also probably watch out for her sister."

"Oh," said Harriet, "Ooh,"

Blaise nodded confidently and rode on.

...

Two days later Padma apologised.

"No, no, it's useful data," said Harriet, "just pass me these things in private next time not shout them at me in underbrush near the forbidden forest."

"What do you mean, 'it's useful data'?"

"I'm trying to put together the time line," said Harriet, "Draco says Mum told Professor Snape that my accidental magic blocked paparazzi from finding Harry. You say Harry isn't there, hasn't been there to find. So did I disappear him? or did I disappear him enough that he was hard to take care of while he was within range of my magic so he was moved elsewhere? Or did I disappear his magic, before he even knew he had it."

"Would that explain why you're amazingly strong, when you can actually get your spells to take?"

"I don't know," said Harriet, "something to ask your parents, am I twice as strong as a witch my age should be, or are we still at transitional ages where that is hard to tell."

"Why not ask yours?"

"Because I don't trust them to tell me the truth if the truth is likely to reveal Harry Potter's identity or location, or endanger my ability to act honourably as his agent."

"That sounds like an uncomfortable situation."

"It is!" said Harriet.

"So … do you like Draco at all?"

"Padma!" said Harriet, "he's nice to me because favours and instructions from his parents and Tonks' parents, I'm taking advantage of it for everything I can, but … it's… I'm just a favour of opportunity, and extended family that would be dishonourable to leave floundering. I try to pay favours back when I can, so that Harry will have fewer to pay back later, but … it's just business, family business perhaps, but just business."

"Hmm," said Padma.

"And sometimes it feel a little degrading. Not in the dirty sense, I wouldn't put up with that. But, a lot of the people that would be going paparazzi over Harry have all been super nice to me since Halloween. It can get kind of creepy. Like, are they being nice because I came to their attention and showed off one transfiguration trick at dinner, or are they being nice because they think Harry Potter will notice and pay them back later."

"Being a pawn backed up by a queen."

"I figure Harry is a rook and Dumbledore and Malfoy's Dad are the queens, but I can never figure out if they are on the same side or different sides. And which side Harry and I ought to be on. Or like you say if Harry even still exists. Or if I should ignore the possibility that he does and just pick my side, or if I even matter. Harry will pick his side when he's good and ready, and probably won't show up until then."

"I'm fairly sure Malfoy and Snape are scared of you," said Padma, "which might only mean they're scared of what you could convince Potter to do on your behalf. But that also implies that they are certain Harry will follow your lead when it comes to politics. Which means it _does_ matter which side you choose."

Harriet stared at her, now she had a completely different direction to be overwhelmed.

Harriet blinked, the solution was obvious, she'd just said it, think whatever she wished, but keep it to herself, explain everything to Harry when he asked her to, and keep her fingers clean of it all until then.

Her stomach rumbled. And not in a good way.

"Padma," she said, "I'm going to the bathroom, and then to bed I think."

"It's almost supper."

"I don't think I can eat right now."

"Oh," said Padma, "Do you want me to walk you to the hospital wing?"

"Oh," said Harriet, "I forgot that was an available option."

"What were you going to do?"

"I was going to lie in bed and try to ignore my problems for an hour or two and think about being safe at home in Mum's potions lab where she'd have the right thing to give me, which might in fact be a hug."

"The hospital wing it is," said Padma firmly, "Let's go."

...

When Harriet awoke it was dark and the curtain was drawn around her, it took her several moments to remember where she might be.

She sat up, there was an open book on her bed near the empty chair.

The bed vibrated slightly and a page turned.

"Draco?" she whispered.

"Yes," he spoke in an undertone.

"Did they say what I'm sick of?"

"Finals," he said, "They said you're worried like you're planning on taking your NEWTs this year."

"Oh," she said.

"You're not are you?" he said, "Planning on taking your NEWTs this year I mean."

"No," she said, "I started worrying about my career after Hogwarts."

"Of course you did," he said, "That's enough to frighten any young mudblood, but I figured you had that problem all buttoned up. Heir Potter's giving you tasks that make it obvious he wants you for a personal assistant, research assistant, as well as business negotiator."

"I'm fine with everything except the business negotiator."

"I'm surprised you're saying that after how well you started the riding clubs."

"I had help."

"From what I could see you had permission and assistance but no help."

"Huh?"

"No one led any of it, until you had it all running and you started delegating. I thought the Professors coming in at the end of last half-term and re-organising the show was in poor taste, but they probably wanted house points out of the deal."

"Yeah that was disconcerting."

"So, are we going to have another show before finals week, or are we going to let it go?"

"I'm not going to organise a show," said Harriet, "And I and Canterbury don't have anything new to show off, so … I guess I'd come to the show if everyone else wants to put one on, but I don't see participating in it."

"That's my feeling also," he said, "Are you feeling better."

"Yeah," she said, "Did you bring a book for me?"

"No, do you want me to go get one for you? Or your robes are right here do you have some in there somewhere?"

"No," said Harriet, "Do you want to go to the library? What time is it?"

"Tempus," said Draco, "10:30,"

"Maybe, later." She stretched, "I'm wide awake, but … "

"Not wide enough awake to break curfew?"

"I guess," she said, "shall I get up and see if I feel well enough to walk home?"

"It's up to you," said Draco.

"Do you want to disappear before I start making a god awful clatter?"

"I'm already disillusioned."

"You don't _feel _like you are," said Harriet, "when you lean on the bed, and talk and it's too dark to see you anyway. How are you reading?"

"Trade secret,"

"Darn you, Mr. Malfoy, Darn you."

"I don't need mending at the moment, thanks anyway."

"That's alright, you can tell me tomorrow afternoon, I wouldn't be able to see the wand motions right now anyway."

"That's the spirit," said Draco, "Are you getting up, or shall I abscond to slytherin un-escorted."

"I'm getting up," said Harriet, "but I'm not promising anything."

...

**{End Chapter 18}**


	19. Surprise

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Surprise**

The next day they met in their normal place. Draco apparently had spent a good deal of the rest of the night on his book, or had read nothing else during history class. He finished it while Harriet was still on her second chapter.

He closed the book, took some notes and walked away.

Harriet had grown accustomed to watching books float away from the table accompanied by Draco's soft footsteps. She generally managed not to be watching when it happened, so as not to guide anyone else's eyes should they be glancing between the stacks at her at the pessimal moment.

She wasn't used to his footsteps stopping and him exclaiming in a frightened voice, "Wha-That's odd,—in Merlin's name is that?"

"Should I be concerned?" she said.

"Umm," he said, "probably only vaguely interested. Someone's stashed a mirror over here in mind arts."

"What _is _in mind arts?"

"Legilimency, Occlumency, everything on the pensive, the expected stuff on memory charms, unusual kinds of illusions for all the different senses, all the standard forms of telepathy, several induced forms, a couple on wandless magic that probably belong elsewhere, and today a huge magic mirror that can see me in spite of my disillusionment, also can't seem to see the library."

"What does it see instead?"

"Wizengamot,"

Of course it does, and even if it didn't would he admit anything less. Unless he meant being in front of the court rather than on it. In which case, she wouldn't expect him to tell her anything _more_.

Harriet went to look, she'd only seen one picture of the Wizengamot and it looked very sober and posh. She came around the end of the stack and saw. Harry being hugged by various relatives. Most of whom were gazing out of the portrait with proud, contented, loving expressions. Like Dad right before a high five.

"Harry!" she squealed and stepped quickly closer to see better, he was just how she imagined him, except he _wasn__'t_ strict and lordly, he was cheerful like Moit, friendly like Moit, Confident like … like during a transfiguration that _is _going to work. Playful like Dee or Tonks. Loving like Tonks.

That was an odd thought, was Tonks the most loving person she knew? God she wanted a hug. She'd been wanting one for days.

But her concentration was broken by tripping over something then catching her elbow on something.

"Oomph," said Draco.

Harry's face changed to slightly bemused, as the mirror rose up to meet her fall.

CRASH!

"Harry are you alright?" said Draco's voice, though it was hard to hear over the pain of impacts past and pinpricks present. And half the pinpricks seemed to be trailing burning drips.

So, she was bleeding.

Harriet rolled to a sitting position and rubbed her face. Gently, careful to knock glass shards away not drive them deeper.

"Who the bloody hell are you!" said Draco.

Harriet blinked blearily at him from under the hand that held what was the biggest bruise, not counting the one across her ribs where she'd landed on the lower frame of the broken mirror before the whole thing had decided to flip over her. At least, that's what seemed like must have happened, from how the frame circled where she sat; though, the glass was over there. He… she'd switched to a boy's body, which boy's body? She didn't mind if _Draco _knew she was a metamorphmagus but who would he tell.

"Harry Potter?" said Draco.

_Ah ha, it would be, of course, that__'s who she'd been thinking about when she lost her balance._

"Guilty as charged," she said and made sure that the scar was in place and an almost invisible, understated pink, just like it had been in the mirror, before she moved her hand, "who are you, and what am I doing here, and where is here?"

Draco blinked at him.

"And what did you summon me here for, I don't fulfil favours for free, I don't _like_ being summoned so that's one strike against you already, Also dropping me on broken glass isn't conducive to my better moods."

"I didn't summon you," said Draco, "If Harriet did I don't think she meant to."

Harriet/Harry raised an eyebrow, "Harriet? I _thought_ I heard her voice on the way through, where did she get to?"

Draco raised his wand.

Harry brandished Harriet's, "None of that now," he said, "you'll stand carefully back and let me put myself together, and then we'll make proper introductions, and then we'll negotiate — oh yeah, you didn't summon me."

Harriet looked at her wand, and wondered if Harry could actually use hers, or she his for that matter, she should write him and ask. And he _wouldn__'t _advertise the weakness. She put the wand halfway away, and then remember and summoned the glass off him and siphoned the blood away and cast a charm that would make her cuts heal in a matter of minutes, except she followed it with her own metamorphmagic to multiply the healing speed by another order of magnitude.

He looked at Draco again, "House of Black chin, long blond vela-like hair, closest person to where Harriet was when she disappeared? You're Draco Malfoy?"

"Guilty as charged," sneered Draco.

"I think I like you," said Harry.

"What's not to like," shrugged Draco.

Harry shrugged and frowned.

"Quite," said Draco.

Madam Pince ran up and looked at the mess and started berating them for being in the restricted section. Then she noticed the blood. And Harry's rapidly vanishing cuts and bruises.

She caught both of them by the arms and dragged them off.

Draco made a desperate shove, and got his book stashed on top of a row of books before they exited the restricted section and began to be dragged away down the hall.

Outside the library Nott tried to intervene but she just sent him for Professor Snape or the Headmaster or both and told him to bring them to the hospital wing. He ran off.

The Headmaster and Snape both showed up. But not before they were sitting on the edge of a bed and Pomfrey was checking them over and ordering them repeatedly to sit still even though they weren't trying to move. What Harriet really wanted to do was play with her wand. Something had happened.

She'd seen Harry, Harry had liked her, Harry had been proud of her, just like he said in the letters. What was his word? Confident. She could BE that Harry. It felt like a transfiguration that was going to take.

Magic was _supposed _to be as easy as shield charms.

As easy as metamorphmagic.

She tried to be content with just _holding _her wand. Even if it annoyed Madam Pomfrey.

Dumbledore was looking at her oddly. So was Professor Snape.

"Mr. Potter," said Snape, "Can—

To the side and a bit behind the Headmaster got ready to do some bit of magic.

She didn't know what it was but wanted to talk to one at a time, not let him interrogate her with magic while Uncle Snape asked interesting questions.

Whatever spell left the headmaster's wand only travelled as far as where Harriet's shields normally appeared. Then the shield appeared absorbed the spell and vanished again.

"What was that?" said Snape and turned to the headmaster.

"Simple shield," said Dumbledore, "blocks most medical scans,"

"Well yeah," said Snape and turned back to Harry, "as I was saying—"

Dumbledore sent out three more, the first at Draco the next two at Harry.

Harry determined he didn't want them to get through his shield and it appeared at the appropriate moments to block them.

Dumbledore looked bemused and started sending plain light balls of various colours. At angles that weren't _at _Harry but would get inside the radius of his shield.

Harry blocked them all, except he could tell that they weren't real spells, so he let anything shield shaped pop up, instead of just the simple shield.

"Could you two stop that?" said Pomfrey, "I have worked in battlefield conditions, I may do it again someday, if I must, but the strobe is not conducive to good concentration."

"I'm sorry," said Dumbledore, "we'll stop."

Then as soon as her back was turned he launched a ball of black light right past Harry's ear. Harry was almost certain it was just an overpowered flame freezer, but on general principle, he countered with the whitest, silver-est shield he had.

It didn't _block _it exactly they both ran sparkling and fogging through and around each other and sank gradually to the floor.

Madam Pomfrey stood back with her hands on her hips. "Are you two quite finished,"

"I am if he is," said Harry, then frowned, "actually I'm not, that last one went different than I expected."

He waved her wand in the correct spiral and held up the memory of Harry's confident, loving smile. The silver sparks didn't appear in a shield sphere, but slid from her wand and formed a doe, danced for a moment and then looked around, then fuzzed into a different creature then leaped back into Harriet's wand.

"Constantine! I like this wand," said Harry, "I shall write Harriet a letter proposing we trade!"

"Was that a wordless corporeal patronus?" said Dumbledore.

Harry grinned shyly, then remembered her confidence and sat up straight, "Yes, sir. First one."

"Congratulations," said Professor Snape.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry then leaned forward, this was it. Which way was she going to go. If Harry was a Slytherin he would not spill, and play along, what did he know to play along with.

If Harry was Gryffindor like his awesome confidence? Or Hufflepuff like his love?

"You must be Harriet's Godfather,"

"We met before," said Snape.

"I'm fairly sure we _haven__'t_," said Harry.

"August last year, I gave you your Gringotts key, you gave me permission for Harriet to attend on your tuition."

Harriet burst out laughing, "That wasn't _me_. I wasn't even in Europe" He laughed some more and looked around at them, "That was _Harriet_."

He giggled some more and looked around, then sobered instantly, "she didn't tell you? Dear Constantine, she's going to send me the biggest howler."

"I more than half suspected it," said Professor Snape.

"I totally suspected _something_," said Draco, and pulled out his wand.

Harry made it levitate all the way to the ceiling, "I _said __'_none of that!',"

Draco looked offended, and looked at his wand on the ceiling. He also looked impressed.

"I can totally believe that you aren't the same boy who gave permission for Harriet to use Heir Potter's tuition money," said Dumbledore, "could you verify that you are Harry Potter, and that she does have that permission."

Harry giggled, "people _don__'t _steal from me, if you find someone who thinks they have, feel free to warn them that they have merely _borrowed a favour _from me for a while. Harriet knows this."

Harry frowned, and turned to Draco, "I owe _you _several, most of them small, don't waste them on frivolous offences." Harry smirked and tilted his head. Draco's wand fell in his lap.

Draco picked it up and after a moment's thought shoved it in his pocket. A slight smirk on his face.

"Prudence," said Harry, "I like it." He faced forward where he could keep his eyes on everyone.

"Can someone explain what Harry's doing here?" said Dumbledore.

"Right," said Harry, "What I was trying to ask you back in the library, before your librarian decided that dislocating our shoulders was in her line of duty," he turned to Draco, "Can you explain again from the beginning, What I'm doing here and in Harriet's clothes."

"I can tell you what I saw and heard," said Draco looking around, "Which wasn't much, Harriet went off into the restricted section about forty five minutes ago, then I heard her get up to switch books or get out her parchment to take notes or whatever it was. But she didn't get very far before she said "What's that?" then she walks around a stack, and screams, "Harry!" and dashes down the aisle. And Crash! So I go running to see what the noise is, because it sounded like glass not like books or tables and chairs. And there you were sitting up in the middle of the wreckage of a bloody-great looking-glass."

"The mirror of Erised?" said Snape turning to Dumbledore, "I guess we know what she wanted."

"No one goes in mind arts," said Dumbledore, "It should have been safe."

Snape sighed, "why didn't you put it behind the theatre or in the seventh floor storage room, it's where everything else ends up."

"What theatre?" said Draco.

"What seventh floor storage room?" said Dumbledore.

"Never mind," said Snape and turned back to Draco, "Is that all?"

"Well then he healed him self, mostly, and I see who it is, and I say 'Harry Potter?' and he sounds all bored and says, 'guilty as charged, what did _you _summon me for?'"

"And I said 'I didn't it was Harriet,' and he looks all excited for a second, then realises that Harriet isn't there, then he looks at me like Harriet did the first time, and he says, 'Draco Malfoy, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance' and I said 'guilty as charged,' and Madam Pince runs up and drags us here. Even though I was fine except where I bumped into a chair while running, and he already healed himself."

"Anything to add?" said Snape. Looking at Harry.

"I heard Harriet call, and then something hit me that felt like a portkey, only not, and I was sitting up in a puddle of glass shards, and tangled in the skeleton of a mirror stand. The rest happened kind of like he said. He left out the part where he pointed his wand at me before he figured out who I was and I told him not to."

"Right," said Draco.

"Do you know how to get back?" said Professor Snape, "Not that we're asking you to leave, just that if you can't we may need to start working something out."

"I can get back," Harry frowned, "I could bring Harriet back, the question is … we're in a unplotable location aren't we."

"Yes," said Dumbledore.

"She mentioned anti-apparition wards, she didn't mention unplotable. Hmm. How far is the eastern boundary?"

"Quite a hike," said Dumbledore, "would you prefer to go by broom?"

Harry shrugged, and started plotting transforming back. "That might not be wise," he said, "where is the _closest _boundary."

"Out the front gate," said Dumbledore, "also quite a hike, but all of it in sunlight, no forbidden forest et cetera."

"And yet," said Harry, "she managed without leaving the wards,"

He closed his eyes, and picked up her wand. How would he play this, mind reading, but he couldn't mind read in real life.

"Harriet," he whispered, "If you're around, how did you bring me here? Enchantment or charm? Hmm, my my you're a long ways away, and yet… Oh is that what you did. Very ingenious. Finite—OUCH! You do it then, it's your enchantment."

He sighed, and waved her wand in a 'alright, get on with it, keep talking' sort of gesture.

Then he winced, dropped her wand and grabbed his stomach, and at the same time transformed back into Harriet.

"Ow'uuugh." She said, and managed a dry heave and a controlled tumble onto the floor.

Madam Pomfrey inserted a gleaming sterile bucket before she could remember her next move. So she moaned again and used her metamorphmagic to query her stomach for how much vomit could be produced.

Not a lot, not enough to be worth the effort; it had been hours since lunch and not close enough to supper for things to begin getting ready. So she made another dry heave and another moan. What else needed to happen. Ah yes.

She winced hard and grabbed her ear, "Alright, alright, Ow be quiet."

She breathed hard and caught her breath, "he says I have to tell you, I'm a metamorphmagus, and it's naughty that I didn't tell you, but I didn't want to be a metamorph here, everyone thinks it's weird at home, everyone thinks Tonks is weird here, I didn't want to be weird, I just wanted to be a normal witch and learn magic, I tried to never change. I never changed to be someone else. Aright, I'm not dark, alright. I never used it to get anyone into trouble, I never used it to not get in trouble. I didn't—" she grabbed her ear again, "ow, your spell is way too loud."

"He says, there are laws about being a metamorphmagi and I should have asked Tonks immediately but that any of you can probably tell me."

She sat still and trembled and rubbed at her ear.

"There are," rumbled Professor Snape, "most of them are about the things you knew you shouldn't use them for."

She nodded.

"The main one you were breaking was hiding it," said Dumbledore, "you need to register with the ministry, but that can wait until you come of age at seventeen,"

She sat up and glared at him, "I am of age."

Dumbledore shrugged.

She dropped her gaze until she was looking out flat instead of up, "so I have to register, what else?"

"You have to read all the laws and sign that you've been made aware of them," said Dumbledore, "That's what most of the registration form is,"

"Alright," said Harriet.

"How do you feel now dear?" said Madam Pomfrey.

"Good I guess," said Harriet, "kind of hungry, what time is it?"

"The middle of the afternoon," said Snape.

"Oh, alright," said Harriet.

"Here dear," said Madam Pomfrey and held a glass of water down to her.

"Thanks," said Harriet and drank it carefully, but quickly.

"So," said Professor Snape, "how did your half of the adventure go?"

Harriet shrugged, "I saw him in the mirror, I haven't seen him in years, I had made up what I though he'd look like by now from what Mum said, but I didn't know. He wasn't anything like what I imagined, he was always so sad as a kid, he looked at me and I wanted to be right there with him or him with me and I ran to him and I think I must have dropped my book and tripped over it or something. Anyway I remembered it was just a mirror and not a door just about the same time I looked up from seeing what I was tripping over and smashed through it." And then I was right where he'd been. And he was right there where I was, but where is he really? Dead? That would be freaky. No, I'll just be under water.

"And then I … I knew he'd come to visit me and I was going to visit him, he was in a class or something but he was bored, and it wasn't English … and that would be stupid so I stayed here, but there wasn't really room for both of us to be awake, so he … so I fell asleep, sort of, then it was like a dream, I could see but I couldn't hear or move. And what I could see was … what he thought things were not what they were. So when he recognised a door I saw a door but it might be a muggle door not the actual door that was actually there. He saw book shelves and Draco and Draco's wand, but … it wasn't until we were in here that I could see who Draco was when he looked at him instead of just blond hair and umm," she shrugged, "you know how dreams can be weird, anyway, I could feel my wand, and could hear his spells, but that was all, everything else I couldn't feel or hear, and then he… turned and looked at me and I could hear him."

She grinned, "I could tell that he likes me, I think he dreams most of what I do, that he has since I blocked people from finding him or something, and he was so excited that I figured out how to bring him here in case I need him again. And …" And I think protecting me would be his patronus. Except I cast that, as my patronus, that he's happy with me and confident in me. Except I sort of cast it as him, since I wasn't him but as myself playing his character. Which is odd, but it worked.

My happiness that he's confident is something like this: "Expecto Patronum." white sparks, flew from her wand, but they didn't fly out and make a shield like all her others, they flew back, along her wand travelled in swirls and rushing eddies down her arm and around her whole body.

Star-trek personal disrupter shield style, so cool.

Except it was only good against dementors and lethifolds, and it might not work against them without being aggressive. It faded away.

"Huh, well that's different," she said. She glanced up at Professor Snape and realised how tall he was when she was scrunched up on the floor. She stood up, making careful use of the bucket, so as not to look too strong already. But also to not lean unequally on one side of the bucket and flip it over and land on her face. She tried to leave pratfall for others.

It had been interesting to watch Draco improvise a story without him in the restricted section, what would the others say.

"What else did you discuss besides the headmaster testing him on how short a time he could keep all his different shields up without letting anything through."

"We discussed your little charade last year."

"Huh? Oh, _Mum__'s _little charade. I just—"

"Just what?"

"Did what I was told," said Harriet, "told the truth as I knew it, the way I thought he'd tell it from his perspective."

"Hmm," said Professor Snape, "Every truth except for two."

She looked up at him.

"Pretending to be him, and that you could pretend to be him."

"Did the first because I was told," she said, "I didn't tell the second because I was tired of it and wanted it to go away. I haven't shown a purposely changed face to any wizard or witch since then."

"I'm the last person you showed your talent to?" said Snape in an choked voice.

"Last _wizard_ I intentionally showed it to," she said, "Umm, last time I used it off stage too. If you can call it that given the amount of stage direction I received."

Snape went to one knee and stared into her eyes.

He knew the motions alright but when he went for comforting it was just awkward.

"Harriet," he said, "You may always tell me the truth. Especially when needing advice or wanting a confidant or, he shrugged, "anything like that, you don't need to put on a show just so that your emotions or your story have a way to shine through. At least … you don't have to act out a story if simply explaining will do."

"Alright, Uncle Snape," she whispered.

"Good," he said, and narrowed his eyes as he decided whether to accept the title.

"Anything else?" he said.

She shook her head. Mentally begging him to stand up. Him thinking he needed to be smaller not to scare her, was eroding her confidence in a way nothing else hed since she'd seen the mirror.

He stood up.

"Anyone else have anything to add?"

"For the record," said Dumbledore, "I'm not asking you to change your face, or anything else that you're not comfortable with, but would you mind showing us proof that you're a metamorphmagus?"

Harriet frowned at him then held up a hand about to change it to Puck's and realises that doing an elf impression might be in poor taste, especially since elves aren't at all what she'd imagined ten months ago. Something even simpler then. She pulled her hair to the side and let it stretch to brush the floor.

"Such as this?"

"Perfect," said Dumbledore, "Much obliged."

She shrank her hair back to just the right length. And realised that it was no longer not bound up. _Thank Merlin I__'m in the hospital wing. _She turned and crouched to look around and under the bed until she found her wand and transfigured a hair scrunchy. Not as universally recognised as appropriate as a bun, but not obnoxious either.

"Is there anything else?" said Draco.

This time everyone shook their heads.

"Alright," said Draco, "Come on Harriet, lets go get our stuff from the library and find you something to eat."

"Not every-flavor beans," she said.

"Of course not," he said, "I mean _food_ not candy."

...

**Confession**

As soon as they had their stuff gathered up and their books properly re-shelved, they went back to the stairs Draco leading the way.

But they didn't go find food, they went to Hermione's room. No one was studying, Ron and Blaise were playing chess. The library three and Tracy were copying cards. Three hufflepuffs and a gryffindor she didn't recognise were playing with gobstones, though they didn't seem to be playing an actual game, from the fact that the noise wasn't louder, and the few cheers were all encouraging.

Draco looked around for several seconds, before saying, "Oi, Hufflepuffs,"

They looked up defiantly, as if they were studying just … not right at the moment. Which explained all the open books on the table next to them.

"Harry has just had an adventure," said Draco, "I'm sure you've figured out how much slitherins hate having adventures."

The hufflepuffs nodded sympathetically, the griffendor looked confused but mildly intrigued.

"Anyway, she has something to tell us all, and then she's going to eat."

"I'm not— I wasn't planning—" said Harriet.

"You're still doing the stupid worry thing that made you sick several days ago," said Draco, "Once your friends know you'll have less to worry over."

And that was the symbolic meaning behind registering. Which was legally required. Fine. Obeying the spirit of the law, because… the people who only obeyed the letter of the law were criminal masterminds, or well, not _criminal_ technically, but creepy masterminds.

She sighed. And Draco turned back to the room, taking in the … new library four as well this time, "As I was saying," he continued, "she's had a rough day so we're going to keep this short and supportive, we're _not _here to discuss her adventure unless she wants to, does everyone understand."

Nods all around and more looks of concern, "Now, would you hufflepuffs go see the elves about getting her whatever kinds of food you like for mild magical exhaustion. Not chocolate, or not _just _chocolate."

The hufflepuffs left in something of a hurry, discussing favourite dinner sorts of foods.

_Maybe they _would_ bring back something useful._

Draco turned to Daphne, "I'm not clear on the protocol next door, but could you check if any of Harriet's friends or allies are there who should be here and notify them appropriately?"

Daphne looked both annoyed to be sent on an errand, and pleased to be deferred to.

Draco didn't wait for an answer and turned to the griffendor who wasn't one she recognised. "Four knuts, two for you give this to a school owl, don't worry about waiting for a reply."

The griffendor shrugged and left.

Daphne came back with Sally-Ann and the rest of the slitherin girls. Less than a minute later the Hufflepuffs returned with Tonks and another hufflepuff prefect, and lots of food, mostly vegetables and potatoes and sausage. Enough for everyone.

As soon as it was settled and the first round of ooohs and aaah was over Tonks looked up at her, "So what's this about, Harry?"

"I guessed you already knew, but Harry and Draco say it's time to tell the rest of you," said Harriet and sighed, _courage! Yeah right. Confidence? Fine, whatever._ "So I'm telling you. That I'm an metamorphmagus."

"Awesome," said Tonks, with a grin and her hair turned plaid and started rippling.

"What's a metamorphmagus?" said one of the hufflepuffs.

"It's what I am," said Tonks, and turned to Harriet. "So what can you do?"

Harriet shrugged, _most everything she__'d ever wanted to do and practised enough to figure out how enough that she didn't need a mirror._

"Well, can you do this?" Tonks said pointing at her hair. Which was now dark and light blue with light green flashing through it, like ripples on the bottom of a shallow pond.

"Not yet," said Harriet.

"Can you do this?" said Tonks and crossed her eyes and stared, her nose went distinctly pig shaped.

"No," said Harriet, "Why would I want to?"

Tonks put her nose back, and stared, "So what can you do?"

"Mostly I just used it instead of makeup and wigs for plays."

Tonks blinked and then grinned, "Awesome, so who can you do?"

So she ran through everyone she could think of from her favourite plays which meant most of the girls some of the women and some of the smaller boys. She wasn't as impressed with herself because she was taking longer than she usually did with her flash cards, but she was sorting them by play as best she could without going back, and some of them seemed impressed by that.

She was conscious of the fact that her scrunchy had fallen out after the second boy but she kept going.

When she was finished everyone clapped. Blaise said, "I notice that you have postures as well as faces and hair for each of them."

"Yeah," said Harriet, "most of acting is in the attitude, not in the face. But the face has to be there or people get confused."

"I wasn't questioning," said Blaise, "I was trying to complement but… I don't know enough theatre terminology to say what I want."

"Oh," said Harriet.

"So you could have shown me Potter, on the train," said Tonks.

"Yeah," said Harriet, "Apparently I should have tried, except I'd have gotten it all wrong, I haven't seen him in years, and I didn't know he was Harry Potter then… Or I knew he was Harry Potter I just didn't know Harry Potter was a Lord or famous or anything. Anyway," she turned her face to Harry's except the scar. She started to make the scar and then frowned and then stopped. "And he has a scar on his forehead, but I don't like it so I'm not going to do it."

...

Harriet was finally relaxing, beginning to _understand _that her friends were still her friends. She wasn't quite to the _believing _it stage yet, but she could feel the food and conversation eroding her doubts and fears.

"Are you alright now?" said the littlest hufflepuff. She knew him. Not his name but … on the train, he's been sensitive to her mood then too.

"Getting there," she said, "what's your name?"

"Josiah Cohen," he said

She nodded her head in the best curtsy she could manage sitting down.

He stuck out his hand.

That worked too.

They shook.

"Are you going to fall asleep?" he said.

"Not asleep exactly," she said, "but something like it. Always after a bad scare. Food helps though, so does company."

He smiled knowingly as if she'd just stated the obvious and must have only done so to build an argument from there. But that had been everything she'd meant to say.

He shrugged and let his focus drift to his next bite, then returned his gaze to her, "slitherins aren't that smart about some things are they?"

Which was exactly what she'd said to Neville on the train about gryffindors. Although she'd changed the words to make it be about injuries.

"I'm not certain," she said, "there's a lot we are all capable of when we're at our best. There is a lot that none of us are capable of when we're having a rough day, or perhaps, when we've had a rough day, we must each fall back on what we're good at, and let the rest go until morning. And hope that our friends can pick up the slack until then."

"_That_ makes sense," he said.

Draco stood up hard enough that his chair slammed into the empty table behind him. Everyone looked at him.

"_That _was faster than I expected," he muttered, then in the determined-but-not anything-else-voice he used for blowing up tables he said, "Tonks, Harry, Follow me. Bring your things."

"Wotcher," said Tonks rising and drawing her wand.

"Not like that," said Draco.

Tonks levitated her pack and purse from across the room and grabbed them out of the air. Then she smirked and put her wand away.

"Where to?" said Harriet as she gathered her things more slowly.

"Dumbledore's office," said Draco.

"Why?" said Harriet.

"It's a surprise," said Draco.

"I'm not in the mood for more surprises right now."

"It'll be a good surprise," said Draco, "actually you may not need to be there for the beginning of it, but … no one else will be smart enough to notice that, and you might as well watch, so there will be less to explain."

**{End Chapter 19}**


	20. Invasion

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Invasion**

The headmaster was in impromptu conference with the deputy headmistress in the staff lounge, discussing student moral and end of term tests. Moral was low in gryffindor because they were not likely to win the house cup.

And they tended to take it out on the rest of the school.

Which meant that moral was low across the whole school.

If only slytherins were crafty enough to lose quidditch to the gryffindors. Not drastically, just enough that the hufflepuffs and ravenclaws had a chance to make up the difference in academics and hard work.

Severus stuck his head in, "the House of Black, such as it is, and hangers on, is going to descend on us shortly for a family conference."

"Of course they are," sighed Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

"They wish to know if the Pensive will be available, or should they bring their own."

"Of course they do," said Dumbledore and sighed again.

"What is this in regards to?" said Minerva.

"Harriet Matirni summoning Harry Potter to posses her, probably by using accidental magic, but that is not at all clear. During the possession he revealed that she is a metamorphmagus."

"Sweet Merlin," said Minerva, "Should we disappear her before they arrive."

"I don't have the feeling that she'd take that kindly," said Dumbledore, and glanced inward to Fawkes and the Hogwarts wards.

"She's already in conference with Tonks and Draco, Though the topic is how to learn to use her metamorphmagus abilities in a constructive way. Which is hardly necessary, she's already shown a keen interest in using them to become a healer." He returned his focus to the rest of the room.

"If I let them use my Pensive it will strongly hint that they should meet in my office, which would keep them contained and out of everyone else's way."

"Quite," said Severus.

"Which would also make it rude for them to kick you out of their meeting?" suggested Minerva with a hint of irony.

She might never be able to out play the slitherins but she could generally already keep up well enough with any one slytherin family, to keep the school running smoothly. As long as Severus or someone equally competent was around to ride herd on all the developing students.

"Quite," said Dumbledore.

"I shall do my best to handle this and have the school still standing and not on fire when you return from conference," she said.

"I appreciate your effort," said Dumbledore, "Always."

Minerva sniffed and left.

"Is there anything else?" said Dumbledore to the waiting Severus, but he wasn't waiting, he was already gone.

...

It was the week before the week before finals week, which meant… Well everyone knew that finals week and the week before were the most difficult for students, what not everyone realised was that the week before finals and the week before that were the most difficult for teachers. And what even fewer realised was that all three weeks were difficult for the administration, because both students and teachers, when stressed, act differently than at other times.

Also there would be ministry employees present to give the OWLs and NEWTs to the fifth and seventh year students, it had always annoyed Dumbledore that he had to show off his school to so many foreign teachers just when the school was at its worst.

What it all came down to, was that he _didn__'t_ have time for this.

And the 'this' in this case was politics, the politics of old families sticking their noses in things. The politics having to watch political rivals trying to influence his one link to the 'boy-who-lived,' perhaps the most self contained power block to come along in fifty years, and so far without clear alliance, Harry had played the sponsorship role, but perhaps he'd picked his cousin to actually avoid playing the role and to stop her from needing to play it, at at least stop her from becoming needlessly encumbered by doing so.

He closed his eyes and glanced inward, the children were still eating and support grouping for Harriet. That was good. Severus was in his office searching for some reference work or other. He'd already assembled a stack. Hmm. Ted and Andromeda Tonks strolled out of the floo in the board room, or the portrait room as it was more commonly called. He sighed and directed the wards to let them open the door if they so chose.

He opened his eyes and glanced over the portraits around him, "Any volunteers to tell the visitors in the portrait room that the meeting and the pensive is to be here in my office?"

Several looked extremely bored with the idea, but Scamander perked up and seemed to think it over for a moment before nodding his ascent and opening his window and climbing down the tree right outside it. Most of the portraits had been provided with a perfectly serviceable door, Scamander had both door and window, and Dumbledore had rarely seen him take the door before eleven in the evening, or when there wasn't frost on the window and icicles hanging from the tree.

Dumbledore sighed again and began putting his office in order and pulling out the pensive and conjuring enough chairs. Three Tonks, Three Malfoys, Harriet, Himself, and in all likelihood, Severus. That made nine. He already had a chair. Severus might prefer to stand in the background, but it would be impolitic not to conjure him a chair, just in case.

This was a lot more fuss than he was expecting when he placed the mirror two days ago. But he had learned … something, perhaps not that Harriet was sneaking outside of the defence stacks. But _someone_ was.

A machine started ticking differently and he glanced at it long enough to determine that someone was trying to talk their way past the gargoyles. He let them through.

Tonks, Draco, and Harriet filed in. Harriet looked harassed. He didn't blame her, coming down off the mirror was tough, worse if not prepared.

They were barely done grabbing the middle row of seats and looking awkward about being there when the Andromeda and Ted emerged from the stairs, followed by Severus, Narcissa and Lord Malfoy.

Lord Malfoy immediately took charge by greeting everyone. Then he turned to Harriet and held out a scroll with a ministry seal on it, "Harriet Matirni, I understand you petitioned for the metamorphmagus packet and haven't received it yet."

"Umm?" said Harriet, "Oh, thanks."

"Think nothing of it," said Lucius, "read it and if you have any questions, ask. We'll be happy to help."

"Yes, sir," said Harriet, "I mean, mi-lord."

Lucius nodded, "However, Severus and Tonks are the ones who've had the most experience with filing them though."

Harriet blinked, "Severus? Professor Snape is a Metamorphmagus?"

"No," said Lucius, "but he's had students with the ability before."

"Oh," she nodded and made her way to a back corner and transfigured a desk, and began working. Dumbledore was intrigued that it was exactly the same size as the one she'd made at the Halloween feast, about two and a half feet wide by two feet deep, but this one was gleaming black and grey alabaster with tan alabaster tracery inlaid, the legs were carved in a formal style but not grandiose. At least not in its present surroundings. The Black sisters saw it and glanced at each other, and it, and moved together to talk in low tones. Tonks joined them after first hugging her father.

Lucius smirked and looked around. His eyes fell on the pensive and he crossed to it and did the conscientious thing (or the paranoid thing) and made sure it was empty before turning to Draco, "Draco, you know how this is done, please show us your memories of the events that caused you to request we come. Everything you think could be helpful."

"I wasn't trying to _request _that you'd come," said Draco, crossing to the pensive and using his wand to draw short threads of silver memory from his temple and drop them into the pensive, "but I'm glad you did come, you probably could have waited until Saturday if you'd wanted."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Lucius watching Draco's progress with a critical eye. Draco noticed the attention and grew flustered, "They keep breaking," he complained and tried to focus.

His father snorted and turned to Severus, "would you like to contribute your viewpoint as well, I have the feeling it would be _most _helpful."

Severus snorted as well and walked to the Pensive he dropped in a short strand, and then a longer one, at least a foot long. Draco kept going.

Severus went to Harriet and looked over her shoulder for a moment before assuming his silent post by the door. Lucius crossed to his wife and joined her in small talk with the Tonks.

Draco's strands seemed to get longer with fewer people's attention on him. He even managed one a full six inches long before going back to two inch pieces. A final piece less than half an inch.

He sighed and stared at the pensive for several seconds, "Alright," he said and then louder, "Alright, I think I'm done."

The adults began moving in his direction, though they didn't fully stop their conversation until they were behind Draco. Meanwhile Severus had made eye-contact with Dumbledore, then moved to where Harriet worked. He put his hand on her back in an uncharacteristic display. "Are you ready to leave that for a few minutes to see your cousin in action?"

Harriet blinked up at him for several seconds. He tilted his head in the direction of the pensive. "I don't know," she said standing up. And moved toward Dumbledore's desk, every motion telegraphing trepidation; Every motion except tucking herself to Severus' side and taking his wrist to return his hand to her shoulder. Albus would have wagered the contact made Severus feel both uncomfortable and flattered, yet he hid both.

Lucius had finished stirring and put his wand away, "Has everyone done this before?" he said, but he looked between the girls. Harriet shook her head.

"Then you're in for an interesting experience, hopefully there aren't too many skips." He glared momentarily at Draco. Who shrugged helplessly. "As for your part there's really nothing to it, you lean over with the rest of us, and once we're inside the experience will start. Little side notes: you'll be able to talk to those who are watching with you, you won't be able to interact with the memory. Some people consider it rude to speak, or do anything other than point, on anyone else's first view of a memory. But I don't tend to expect anyone to be able to restrain themselves on their first trip regardless." He took hold of the rim of pensive, but he stood to the side, implying that he'd be the last one in, "now then, everyone in."

Draco was closest and took the plunge. Nymphadora broke away from her mother to go in second, so that her parents could go in together. Narcissa followed, then Severus drew Harriet forward and explained how to look in and wait for the Pensive to pull her the rest of the way. Severus deferred to Lucius but Lucius nodded for him to enter.

Lucius turned to Albus and their eyes met strongly, unflinchingly, the both knew that they both had occlumency barriers raised and wouldn't try anything, "I don't know what Draco was hiding or which of us his discretion was aimed at. But come along, it's sure to be interesting."

Albus hesitated only a moment, if he went first, Lucius could ransack his office. But Dumbledore trusted that his important things were lock sufficiently, and that it would take Lucius long enough to get through those locks that he would miss a sufficient portion of the memories that were to be on display, that he'd have trouble running the following meeting. And that would be a bigger blow to Lucius' self image than it could be worth to find anything Lucius might suspect Dumbledore would have here as opposed to at Gringotts or in some more secure location in Hogwarts.

So Albus nodded and leaned over the Pensive and waited for it to grow to encompass him and less than a second for the library to appear around them.

And Lucius _did _arrive before the scene appeared.

Draco and several other students were sitting about reading. Then Draco was moving into the stacks. Then the stacks kept moving past but Draco wasn't in evidence. Oh, yes he was, under a disillusionment, but he was walking a bit too fast, with a bit too much bounce in his step for the charm to keep him properly hidden. A technique he would probably try to improve now, if he understood from this experience that an improvement were possible. They were in the restricted section and moving down a major aisle. Moving down a different aisle turning toward a table with Harriet's things spread out. Harriet was not there.

The mirror was clearly visible between shelves, but only someone knowing what to look for would notice it. Or someone who'd grown accustomed to seeing it NOT there over the course of several months might notice the discrepancy. Perfect.

The scene shifted again. Draco was now in the same aisle with the mirror, but it was now on its face in pieces. Its frame wobbled as the boy with messy black hair tried to untangle and right himself and get up. The boy was evidently in pain but he and Draco started bickering before he even found Harriet's wand and begun healing himself.

Draco hadn't been bickering as schoolboys ought, to determine his place in the pecking order, instead he'd been fishing for information of all types, and He'd recognised the boy in Harriet's robes faster than Dumbledore might have. But perhaps he'd been primed for that idea. Perhaps they'd both been primed for that idea, but Draco had been closer to her.

And he'd been trying to save his own self image in the face of a possible rival, or possible superior. While also adopting some of his mannerisms, either as cheeky improvements on his own, or as a subtle form of flattery.

So perhaps it was all in schoolboy character, for _Draco_.

Dumbledore did notice the moment's hesitation when Harry realised the wand in his hand was not his own. But he rose to the occasion and got rid of his glass splinters, and then healed himself even faster than he'd have expected a child his age would be capable of. But it was a wand for healing.

Then Harry recognised Draco and things became almost amicable almost instantly.

And them Madam Pince appeared and seemed quite put out that two boys had wands raised and glass and blood scattered all over her restricted section. She grabbed them by an elbow each and Draco's memories skipped to the hall where Nott seemed to be trying to offer to take them for her but wanted to know where. She told him to get their Head of House or the Headmaster, preferably both, _she _was taking them to the hospital wing.

Nott disappeared as the scene shifted to the Hospital.

The way Draco remembered it Madam Pomfrey _did _apparate from place to place within the hospital wing. Then a scene in Severus' office as Nott reported. Then they were back in the hospital wing. But things evened out when Severus arrived. However, Dumbledore had arrived at almost the same time. So he switched his attention to audience-Harriet and her intent focus on memory-Harry.

She seemed pleased and proud of him. Mutual admiration society of some sort from the looks of things. And she seemed shaken by his display of power. And more so by his seeming affinity to her wand.

And then it was over. He was gone and memory-Harriet was back, and trying not to be sick. And Audience-Harriet was watching and wincing and still looking on with pride. This was an act, she was reviewing a performance. Had all of it been an act, all of Harry, just like last time before school started? Or just this part where she … admitted she could take Harry's face, and that she hadn't done so except the once on her mother's orders.

It was entirely believable that Harry had ordered her to reveal that she was a metamorphmagus before he left and she'd made up the improvised telepathy by poorly planned out and not properly tuned far speaking. She hadn't had a ruptured eardrum immediately afterwards so probably that part was an act.

The question was … why would Harry have ordered her to tell? And what else had he told her that had inspired her to act as if he'd told her later. He'd have begun to guess anyway after that slow transition back. Snape and Draco perhaps would as well. Was it only to short circuit the howler that he expected otherwise for outing her.

But if Harry had been an act… why would she have put it on? Was this all for Draco's benefit, just because he'd seen her transform by accident. What had she seen in the mirror, now he was even more anxious to know. And more wary where odd states of mind could push her.

And then memory-Harriet found her wand again but this time he could hear as well as Draco had when he'd been sitting right next to her. Something about being Harry's new patronus. And she drew her wand and tried to cast a patronus of her own, it failed but not in a way she seemed to expect.

She didn't seem disappointed that she hadn't done as well as she had moments before as Harry… That should be proof enough that there were two separate entities involved. But something wasn't right.

And it was questionable to assume that their totems _wouldn__'t_ be the same once she managed a corporeal patronus. It was questionable to assume that they were separate entities because of skill or lack of it with a patronus, especially if that had been his first corporeal cast earlier. Or hers, whichever. But the patronus didn't need to be assumed to be the most identifying thing they attempted, it was for most non-married adults perhaps, but did these two children display different enough skill at all the other things they'd both been seen attempting that they could definitively assumed to be different people.

Of course the longer Harriet was in contact with him, the more the discrepancy might disappear, she was intensely competitive. And if his interactions with Draco and Dumbledore himself were anything to go by, so was Harry. The longer they were in contact with each other the more of each other's skills they would try to pick up until that point when either one decided to give up the race and they would choose to specialise for a different kind of collaboration.

The patronus might also be a hint that Harry had been pulling new knowledge from Harriet's mind while he was present. Sudden new ability with the Patronus charm might be a new focus memory, or it might be additional information that Harriet had found when learning it that had not been passed to him until that moment. He should have been keeping closer watch on what notes she'd been sending him.

And now it might be too late, the time when he might monitor their communication may have come to an end.

The scene changed again, Draco and Harriet were in front of their friends. Draco cajoled her into explaining that she was a metamorphmagus, the presence of food may have been part of the pressure. She told, and her friends cajoled her into further demonstrations. She even showed off Harry's face but her reluctance to show off the scar seemed interesting. Telling probably, but of what he wasn't sure.

What he wouldn't give to get an unguarded moment to examine that scar.

He should have asked Pomfrey immediately what she could tell about it, but he'd been busy … allowing himself to be competed with.

He and his wand couldn't be bested in a duel, but the boy had … the boy hadn't been duelling. It was a well known fact that in duelling as in boxing, it is nearly impossible to attack without giving your opponent an opening. Dumbledore hadn't been duelling either, all of his spells had been harmless or easily reversible.

Seeing her interacting with her friends at a time when she was not in … hiding, He was reminded of Severus' earlier comment about whether she belonged in Hufflepuff. He'd dismissed it at the time, as a hint about how well or poorly she was setting into slytherin house's constant political manoeuvring. But now he had the additional bit of info, that she was a metamorphmagus, most metamorphmagi ended up in Hufflepuff.

But those who'd been offered multiple houses rarely spoke of what secondary options they had been offered. Dumbledore had hardly ever regretted his choice.

...

They emerged in the normal rush. Lucius walked to the side of Dumbledore's desk and turned to face the assembled chairs.

Almost by order of age, everyone took that as a cue to move to the chairs and sit down.

"First of all," said Lucius, "You were correct Draco, this is a situation where we owe it to our ally houses Potter and Matirni to be available for assistance. Thank you for bringing this to our attention."

"Second, Miss Matirni," he continued, "I presume that after coordinating with Heir Potter you will attempt to practice your new technique so that you can bring him forward at a moment's notice. I had the impression that his patronus was an expression of his gladness to be able to defend you should the need arise, not the reverse, or an appeal to the memory of a parent's defending love as is more often the case when children below about fourth year learn to cast it."

Harriet nodded, "I'm not sure the right term, but, I kind of think we were both high on that thought, or something similar before I even brought him here. It seems logical that a sudden new ability with the Patronus would be related."

"High?" said Lucius

"Muggle term meaning the first shade of drunk," explained Ted Tonks, "when you feel good and are only slightly impaired. And if you are impaired, it may stem more from feeling good, than from the alcohol's normal effects, which is to put one to sleep."

Lucius nodded his thanks for the explanation and turned his attention back to Harriet.

"And you were so excited to learn how to summon him that you did immediately?"

"No," said Harriet, "I … I saw him in that big magic portrait, except it didn't move like a portrait, it had perspective matched your movements as you got closer. Professor Snape called it a mirror. Anyway I went closer and tripped and hit my head on it, and it broke. And I sort of dreamed Harry being here and then I woke up sick in the infirmary," she shrugged, "except even though it seemed like a dream, I sort of knew it wasn't." When she mentioned Harry it had been in the tone she might have referred to a favourite brother, not the formality she'd used in the past.

She frowned suddenly and turned to Dumbledore, "Umm, sorry about breaking it." Apparently her revere was going different places than his own. More to the point she didn't sound quite sincere.

"Apology accepted," said Dumbledore.

She evidently was sorry that it had broken, but … she might not believe she carried as much guilt as she was claiming. In Dumbledore's experience, people who accepted guilt too readily were generally trying to render pointless farther investigation into the crimes they were taking responsibility for. What crime could she be covering by accepting the blame for breaking a mirror that she evidently didn't wish broken? Perhaps Draco broke it… but why would he…

The only reason Dumbledore had ever heard anyone even threaten to break it was to free a friend, and in that case the mere threat of it becoming broken had snapped the friend in question out of the trance that some people could fall under when gazing into it. Draco was rash enough to have carried it out, but he'd have tried the threat first.

Or he was just overly suspicious of slytherins who deserved it and was also letting it colour his reading of a twelve year old girl. But she'd hardly explained how or why she'd summoned…

He returned his focus to the conversation in progress.

Lucius was just saying, "do you think it was accidental magic triggered by your emotion thinking that you were about to be able to have a conversation with him in a huge magic mirror?"

Harriet shrugged, "I was thinking in terms of a magical portrait, not … I've never seen any other magical mirrors. But yes, I was glad to see him and wanted a chance to talk to him."

Lucius sighed, and turned to Nymphadora, "Miss Tonks, teach her how to owl order a pair of magic mirrors, and teach her how to use them, so she can send one to her cousin."

"Alright," said Nymphadora.

There went another method by which Dumbledore could monitor her communication to the boy who lived.

"I'm not asking to reveal anything that you don't wish to, or believe you should, or may," said Lucius, "but did you get an impression where Heir Potter was located before you called him?"

"How he was portrayed in the mirror? Or," she frowned, "Oh, you mean, where he seemed to be when the magic tried to swap us?"

"Yes, the latter," he said. Obviously he knew what the mirror was, and wasn't currently interested in what it might have shown her, or wouldn't ask about _that _in public.

"I had the impression of a classroom or of a class in progress, I hope I didn't get him in trouble, and a language I didn't recognise, and a subject matter that he enjoyed learning about and would love to teach to me about at some point, but perhaps not yet."

Lucius glanced at Severus. Was that confirmation of a possible time zone guess?

Severus shrugged and glanced to Dumbledore before returning his attention to Harriet.

Probably just the normal byplay of a double agent with both his bosses in the room when a possibly useful clue crosses the skyline.

"Actually," said Harriet, "I later wondered if he was even umm alive." She paused, "I mean he obviously was alive in the sense of existing but was he still … is his existence still of the kind we know here on earth or has he gone on to other things with an option for coming back to check on me when he wishes."

Lucius took a step forward and to the side and sagged back against the front of Dumbledore's desk, in an uncharacteristic display of relaxation. Maybe even familiarity.

"When did you get that impression?"

She shrugged, and took several seconds to frame her answer, "Toward the end he figured out how to close his eyes and talk directly to me in my dream state, and he could also hear me instead of just borrowing bits of my memories like which pocket I had my wand in. Or who Madam Pince was."

"So," said Lucius, "at the beginning you knew where he was coming from, and when he began to contemplate returning, you had a similar inspiration that he might not be going somewhere in this world."

"Yeah I guess,"

Lucius shuddered, "I thought it sounded a bit like Clairabell's sphinx process (among other things) even before I even came, but I didn't expect you'd found enough literature on it to learn the technique."

"I've never heard of the technique, err process," she said, "What is it?"

"Two beings, ahem, or rather two magical creatures can bind themselves together in such a way that they can at will swap bodies, in the record I read, it was never clearly explained whether memories followed the minds that transferred, or stayed with the bodies that did not transfer, or whether it was some amalgamation of the two concepts that perhaps only a skilled obliviator would really comprehend. The point is, one of the dynasties of ancient Egypt were magical and they kept a breed of hunting kneazles, and before the end of the dynasty they had developed additional breed more gifted and trained to bodyguard or in some cases guard property. They would teach the process to their children with these kneazle kittens, if the child and kneazle could reach rapport they would be trained together, if not, well if either one killed their partner by not holding up their end of the bond properly it was less expensive the younger both parties were."

"So it's dangerous?" said Harriet.

"It can be," said Lucius, "the final stage of the process comes when they each have enough experience in both bodies that they can reach out, and instead of travelling to the body of the other they merge minds with all the memories and skills and instincts and intuitions of both bodies open to them, and with those capabilities, they could fight in parallel. Without observing both in action it would be impossible for me to truly compare their effectiveness to modern day examples of extreme competence, such as an experienced team of hit wizards. But compared to what most other armies could field, the royalty and the kneazles were looked on as gods, and the royals with kneazle companions were assumed to be offspring from the gods of war or retribution. Rather than some of the less violent gods. And later that changed again, because once rapport can be established, knowledge could be shared faster an more completely than is possible with books. They developed a breed entirely aimed at longevity, memory clarity, and wisdom. It was smaller than the others, and some say that the kneazles that the priests and peasants were permitted to own did sometime cross with this stock."

"And you think that's what I used with Harry?"

"I hope it is not," said Lucius, "because what little I can find about the technique, and especially about it's warnings, imply that his body would have died without a mind in it, while his mind was here making a mess, you were not in his body keeping it breathing."

She looked a bit taken aback, a bit offended, but not concerned. She didn't believe that she'd killed him.

"Alright," said Lucius, "I'm not trying to rain on your parade, I'm just trying to warn you that when you let your magic and emotions collude to create accidental magic, be careful what you wish for, but if you do let it out, and if, after that, the magic drops into a rut that generations of magical creatures have already worn in the surface of magic, it may be safer to follow the stream to the end than trying to burst out the side of the channel only to find yourself and your magic lost in the wilderness."

She nodded. And pressed her lips into something that wanted to be a smile. After a deep breath she said, "Thank you, Uncle Lucius."

Severus' mouth twitched and Andromeda gasped almost inaudibly.

Lucius didn't move a muscle.

"I think I understand your warning." She either didn't notice that anything had been said improperly, or she was playing a sticky game, and was a lot better actor than Dumbledore would have expected. But then, hadn't she told her friends that she were a professional actress with her family's circus. There were all levels of acting available at circuses, and he'd never been to one of her performances. He had seen what she'd managed in front of Severus the day he'd taken her shopping. And that had been enough to scare Severus.

Dumbledore wondered if it _still _scared Severus. If the being capable of portraying _that_ version of Harry was in his house, and was his goddaughter.

"Is that the only way something like this has been known to happen?" said Harriet.

"No," said Lucius and Severus together, and Lucius continued, "There is simple consensual possession, there is the more complex forced possession, which doesn't sound like the emotional context of what happened. Though you also didn't mention a conversation when you gave permission or invited him in before he arrived."

She was quiet for several seconds, "I might have invited him with magic rather than with thoughts," said Harriet, "if that's a thing. Or, I mean, not in thoughts that were in words."

"I understand," said Lucius, "And that's fine, also legal, if you care, at least until you get married."

She looked intrigued but only barely interested.

"So possession is classified as his magic bringing him to you or otherwise connecting you in such a way that he can take control," Lucius explained the legal terminology, "Channelling is when it is your magic that brings him to you, or that copies or steals enough of his personality or memories to you that you can imitate him to whatever extent that is even possible for you, and to whatever extent you gathered enough intelligence to work from. Your metamorphmagus abilities perhaps could make a body that he found comfortable?"

"Yeah, so it's called channelling?" she responded, and frowned thoughtfully for almost half a minute, "he seemed to get a lot more comfortable all over again at about when he … remembered where my wand was, and … how I liked to hold it."

"Umm," said Nymphadora, "that's another thing I've been wondering about, is his wand anything like yours?"

Harriet shrugged, "that wasn't something we umm 'discussed'."

"Is he a metamorphmagus himself, or did he borrow your memories of the skill, or ask you to shift to his shape? Or anything like that?"

"I wasn't paying attention to that, I was still trying to adjust to the dream. The first time in my dream where I felt balanced again was when he started with the shield spells."

"But Is he a metamorphmagus when he's at home?"

"Not that anyone has ever told me about."

"Do you know umm could you tell if he held his wand differently than he held or tried to hold yours? Do you know what type of wand he has?"

Harriet shrugged, "I don't know what type. And actually it was kind of weird, like … he held my wand the same way with my hand, but not exactly the same with his magic. I wanted to try…"

She pulled out her wand and placed it on the desk beside her. She held her hand out above it. Separated by almost a hand breadth.

_Is she going to say __'up' to see if it responds like a broom? _Dumbledore wondered.

"Point me," she said and after the tiniest pause continued, "farthest deathly hallow," Goose-flesh caressed Dumbledore's spine, she could easily have asked for nearest or second nearest. In fact any normal person would have asked for nearest except in one circumstance. She had Potter's cloak on her person right now, or … she had it in the castle and didn't realise that someone else had one in the castle.

It didn't move, that wasn't surprising, he wouldn't have expected her power to reach that far even with a wand.

She moved her fingers as if massaging the air, probably clearing the channels in her hand for better magic flow, not something he'd have expected her to know how to do. Yet if she were aware enough of her contact with her wand to notice Potter connecting to it differently…

"Point me, The farthest deathly hallow." She said, in a tone of a command radiating outward, rather than the determined self assurance of internal intention that was generally optimal.

Her wand spun and pointed south by south west. She flinched, and as soon as the wand came to a stop she jerked her hand back and stared at it. Or not at it but inwardly at the shape of her magic. She glanced up and back at her wand.

"Huh," she said, "south of here, so it may be staying still,"

"Did it take?" said Draco, "Was that a point or just a jink as it didn't take?"

"I believe it took," said Harriet.

"Huh," said Draco, "so wandless or not wandless?"

Everyone was quiet.

"Neither and both?" said Harriet, "I'm still needing to send my magic through my wand, but … and I still have to know exactly where my wand is for it to work, but I can know from looking instead of from touching. I suppose with practice it might be possible to figure out other ways to know where it is enough to make it work."

"So are you two chasing the hallows now?" said Nymphadora.

"No," said Harriet, "it's just the only interesting thing I've ever cast the four points for that wasn't a person and also here."

"So they are interesting, and you keep casting the charm," said Nymphadora sceptically, "but you're not searching for them?"

"No," said Draco, "Potter lent the cloak to Harriet to watch until they can finish checking it for traces and things. We were checking if the cloak could hide someone from the four points, or hide itself from it. It can and does do both, but only when it's being worn, the rest of the time you can point to it."

"Ah," said Nymphadora, "So … the cloak as in The Cloak belongs to Potter, and Harriet has it?"

"Yep," said Draco, "And another seemed to be in London or south of there, when we were on the express, and the last may or may not have been with it or under some sort of concealment at that time."

Dumbledore hadn't had his wand concealed that day. So … perhaps the Hogwarts wards were sufficient to hide it from the world. But now that the children had explained what they knew it might be only a matter of time before Lucius or one of his allies or procurers tracked down the last one, which very easily could be in the south of England where the Peverells settled.

And it might only take a few days out and about before a skilled tracker might figure out who was carrying the last hallow, his reputation and that of the wand would deter most seekers, but if it became common knowledge that the elder wand that Dumbledore took from Grindelwald, was the fabled deathstick, it might be only a matter of time before someone came _hunting_ for it.

Getting hold of the Resurrection Stone, and moving it here to Hogwarts or convincing it's owners to hide it behind sufficient wards might keep treasure seekers busy indefinitely.

So many things to research so little time.

"Do you think you and he will continue to tutor each other in odd little magic techniques such as these. Or do you have other things planned?" said Lucius.

Harriet shrugged, "I don't know, when he was here, what he was doing with his magic was the easiest thing for me to notice. Perhaps if we continue using the same technique to visit, magic will be the fastest thing for us to teach each other. Or perhaps that was accidental magic and I won't ever manage to do that the same way again. And we'll have to figure out something else. I'm going to do my best to convince my parents to let me go visit him over the summer holidays, perhaps talking the normal way will make it easier to perfect the technique."

That wasn't a full answer, but it was perhaps a more accurate one than a plain "I don't know."

The meeting broke up shortly thereafter, Draco and Nymphadora both wanted to show off their quarters. Which was normal behaviour for pupils with visiting parents. (at least among children who kept their things tidy)

Lucius suggested Narcissa go with Draco, since he wished to remain and help Harriet with her registration.

Snape left to escort Narcissa, even though Draco's room wasn't strictly speaking in the boy's end of the dorm.

Lucius and Harriet worked their way though the form, discussing definitions, choosing which relatives were magical enough to be permissible to put as 'next of kin' In the end she'd put down, "Royce Burgess, Uncle" And "Severus Snape, godfather/guardian" for her two next of kin, and put down "Lord Harry Potter" in the space marked "Pure blood sponsor (optional)" Though it had taken an awfully long discussion how to label uncle Snape's relationship. Twice or thrice Lucius had made an irritated expression at Albus that almost certainly was meant to comunicate that someone present should have managed to get the girl a proper magical guardian. But it was not at all clear who that guardian should be, she was a muggleborn so it could be the headmaster, would have been the headmaster if she hadn't had a sponsor. But she _had _a sponsor, but he was not of age, so… should it have been Severus, as her mother's friend, or Narcissa the nearest competent relative of Heir Potter.

They argued for almost half an hour what to put down for home address. Finally Lucius suggested that the section was optional for itinerant workers which was a vague definition that was sometimes applied to gypsies and circuses.

After that it was all fairly straight forward, and she signed and he notarised and he handed her an invoice for a galleon for notary services and she examined his paperwork and asked if it was alright if she gave the Galleon to Draco later, as she didn't have her money with her.

He seemed torn between accepting this plan, as the entirely normal way he expected children and ally families to run their affairs and the strict code that notaries are expected to conduct business by.

And he looked to be having trouble deciding how to explain the difference to Harriet.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. He'd been headmaster long enough to know how slitherins conducted certain parts of their house business. And he'd been head of gryffindor before that.

They turned to him, Lucius with an uncharacteristic apologetic expression. Though it had probably been formed to show Harriet.

Dumbledore looked at Harriet, "When Lucius was a pupil here," he said, "he was sorted slytherin,"

Harriet looked as though she knew that, but hadn't quite matched that up to the solution.

"Why don't you invite him to follow you as far as the common room, while you go find your money."

"Oh," she said, and stood up, "Is that alright with you?" she said.

"Perfectly fine," said Lucius and they went out. Harriet even untransfigured the desk as she left.

**{End Chapter 20}**


	21. Conference

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Conference**

"You called for me sir," said Severus, he knew there were any number of directions this could go, given the contents of the previous night's meeting.

"Oh, good. You're here," said Albus, "Shall we share our thoughts about everything that was revealed last night?"

"Quite," said Severus, "first off, I assume you repaired the mirror?"

"Yes, I did," said Albus, "it wasn't difficult, his little glass extraction trick didn't imbue the fragments with enough residue to keep the regular repair charm from working."

Whether it did or not, Severus wondered how much it would take in the way of adverse circumstances before spells from Albus' wand would refuse to work.

"Did you analyse the residue first to see if it was Harriet's or Potter's,"

"To a preliminary scan they appeared to be Harry's, uhh our Harry, Harriet Matirni's magic, but without meeting Potter's magic in the absence of Harriet's, I couldn't say for sure. And the way they used each other's wands puts even that into doubt."

"I wondered about that."

"Do you realise how unnerving it was to face someone his size and every cast was wordless?" said Albus.

"I can imagine," said Severus, "wordless fighting is always unnerving, but generally the jinxes and hexes are well formed enough that they are easy to recognise."

"Precisely," said Albus, "he's started using wordless casting young enough that his imagination is not yet rigidly under the control of his reason, the line between a rote cast of a standard spell, and a bit of accidental magic that happens to be directed through a wand may never mean anything to him."

"From what Harriet said, the wand may be less of an issue than for most people also."

"That was an interesting demonstration wasn't it," said Albus, "of all the spells to pick for a demonstration of wandless magic why one that is cast directly on a wand?"

"She didn't _think _of it as wandless, though I'm not sure she's run into any wandless magic other than her own metamorphmagus ability."

"Yes, yes."

"I'd have been interested in seeing her point the wand on the table, let go of it, and then have her cast the tickling jinx or similar without touching it."

"To see whether the charm leaves the wand or her fingers?"

"Quite."

"Feel free to run the test, and to offer her the piece of trivia that most people cast wandlessly without the wand, not at a distance from the wand."

Severus nodded.

"Now then, what did you think of all that about types of possession and channelling?"

"I thought the lesson was in good taste and appropriate under the circumstances," said Severus, "they should be aware of the legal ramifications of that sort of activity. Especially given that she'll be under special scrutiny because of her metamorphmagic."

"I still think that she should not have registered until seventeen."

"With all due respect sir, I don't think you understand how seriously she takes her play acting that she's an adult now."

"What are you trying to get at by saying it that way?"

"No adult takes her seriously as an adult, and she does not let it get in the way of her play or her friendships. But she takes her responsibilities seriously, she may be only play acting at being an adult, but she takes that play acting seriously, to tell her that she's not fit yet to play at being an adult will not be interpreted as permission or blessing or order to enjoy her childhood, but instead I fear it would be perceived as questioning her ability to ever fulfil the role of an adult."

"Ah," Albus leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful.

Almost half a minute of silence followed, during which Severus knew better than to interrupt Albus' calculations. One of which he was sure went along the lines of, "I'm sorry that one of your father figures maligned your ability in that regard, who was it?" No … that would be Lucius, and it would be followed by, "do you want help framing him for something interesting-enough-to-get-gossiped about?"

Finally Albus spoke, "What did you make of the suggestions that Potter might … not be among the living?"

"Two possibilities," frowned Severus, "no, three, Perhaps she did kill him by summoning him too thoroughly out of his body, as Lucius suggested, if that form of possession or channelling even exists, or exists outside of a single dynastic line in ancient Egypt. Possibility two, he is dead and she channelled him anyway, that's not unheard of, even in muggle circles, though when they don't believe magic can exist, everything is fun and games and play acting until someone channels a dead dark lord or a lost elf lord, and he seizes the opportunity for revenge."

"Go on,"

"Possibility three," Severus sighed, "he made some comment in passing such as 'I'm so dead' regarding dozing off in class and his expected punishment, and she misinterpreted it, it may not have even been in a language she speaks. And possibility four,"

They stared at each other, "Possibility four," said Dumbledore, "she was trying to prepare us for the fact that there is no longer a Harry Potter, she used her metamorphmagic, and perhaps a bit of accidental magic to became Harriet Matirni, perhaps as her mother hinted, to avoid paparazzi."

"I doubt it is that simple," said Severus, "perhaps it is, but I don't think being reminded that she used to go by a different name would be enough to trigger the developments I saw."

Albus nodded, "I'm not ready to accuse her of impersonating Harry Potter any more than I'm ready to accuse her of being Harry Potter and impersonating herself."

"No," agreed Severus, "I can't imagine that either would go over well, perhaps as a final hint before summer break, when she'll be home and safe amongst her family, but not here, and not when she has the burden of academic work to keep up."

"That is precisely the sort of burden that I would prefer to avoid throwing at a child," said Albus.

"I understand," said Severus, though he personally disagreed, that sort of revelation would permanently destroy most adults he knew, children's minds were generally more adaptable, sure it might take her six months to recover from realising something like that, but it wouldn't destroy her.

"There is one other piece of evidence that still doesn't fold into any explanations except the last one," said Albus, "her Gringotts key."

Severus shivered, he knew there had been something he wasn't considering.

"I don't know for _sure_," said Severus, "most people can feel a key scanning them, and some find it unpleasant, even without the bonding experience at the end. I could have been mistaken."

"And we don't know for sure, whether whatever her camouflage magic is that attracts owls and four points charms, it might confuse goblin magic as well."

"Or she may in fact be Potter, or his nearest living magical relative, and it was correct to bond with her."

"Precisely,"

"Hmm,"

"More to the point, did the Goblins give her any difficulty accessing Potter's money?"

"It's only hearsay that it was Potter's money that she accessed, but yes, I do believe that's whose trust vault she accessed, and no I didn't notice the goblins giving her any difficulty. Nor did she seem as though she'd just been told that her precious Harry Potter were dead."

"Hmm,"

"That seems to be the other main difficulty with every model of events we've made so far, Harry, Our Harry, umm Harriet Matirni claims that she hasn't seen Harry Potter in years, her parents claim that the two were kept together because she's the only one who can find him to deliver messages."

"It could be both and she hasn't been allowed to detect or become friends with Harry under his new name, but given that her parents are known to have attempted lying to us, the straightforward inverse of what they told us is that 'when he is kept far enough away from her, the magic becomes ineffective, and he can live as normal.'"

"And it is easier to send the orphan cousin far away than one's own daughter," said Severus, "I hate to say it, but that fits."

"Do you know more than you've shared about how families operate in the circus context?"

Severus frowned, and sighed, after several seconds thought he said, "every tiny change in family and guardianship structure you've seen in Great Britain in the last fifteen years because of the last war, is probably somewhat normal and perhaps somewhat institutionalised, so many of the jobs are dangerous that, perhaps no one dies this month or this quarter, but everyone dies eventually and sometimes accidents are extensive. Children may rarely reach to maturity without losing one or both parents, and the children work too, perhaps not in the most demanding professions, perhaps not with their parents' consent, but there are all manner of chores to be done and most children wish to help favourite adults with their work, some the more so if they are told they aren't quite old enough, others if they are included with sufficient attention to be kept safe. So the children might be as accident prone as adults, and those that aren't formally allowed or encouraged to train for positions within the circus, may wander unsupervised in the very environment that perhaps has killed their parents. The death toll isn't _high_, but it _is _higher than the average population, but the accident rate is high enough that those with magical healing have a distinct advantage. And the orphans are traded around to where there is room for them, many end up on the farms where the animals are raised and trained. The hidden half, the quiet half of the circus. I'm under the impression that Harriet's paternal grandfather runs such a ranch. I imagine it could be a better place for a child to grow up than running around underfoot in the public half, the performing portion of the circus."

"Is this an additional reason that they are declared of age at only twelve?"

"It follows, if they are on their own recognisance anyway, and have been for enough years, it seems likely that they may have more common sense than common people at age 17, it doesn't seem all that odd to institutionalise recognition of that fact."

"You pain a bleak picture,"

"You're forgetting the whole, 'growing up in a circus' aspect, all those exciting and fun things to watch for free and perhaps learn to do, either from an adult or behind their collective backs."

"Not that different than some of the less reputable magical schools then,"

"Precisely. Matirni's circus is one of the more reputable squib schools, that's why Petunia went, until she could pick up additional languages, her only better options were in South Africa and Canada,"

Dumbledore made a face like he'd never heard that before.

"There is no way this hasn't come up several times in the last decade and a half," said Severus.

"Perhaps it did and I'd forgotten," said Dumbledore, "Who runs it?" _Wanting to know his opposite number, for networking opportunities, or to put a name with a perceived opponent?_

"I believe Harriet's eldest paternal uncle, and several of his acquaintances, Petunia and her husband and at least one other teach brewing. The parents of the Patils teach care and handling of magical creatures, several others teach runes and rune wards, for amulets or warded doors, and probably jewelry boxes, though perhaps not, I haven't seen evidence I'd expect that they ward larger pieces of luggage. I've heard rumors that auras, divination, crystal work, ancient texts, and other things are taught."

"Some of those are mastery level topics," said Dumbledore.

"Without the emphasis on charms and transfiguration they can move a lot faster," shrugged Severus, "also I didn't mean to imply that they don't allow study up through mastery level work. But they do tend to specialise, in part because classes such as they are, are scheduled around regular circus activities. Also they teach muggle world history, and emphasise technological and magical progress, and how it improves society, instead of concentrating on politics and war and how people react to those changes."

"Huh," said Dumbledore, "I _wish _I could change our history course."

"There's always the library," said Severus, "Anyway, do you think Potter has been on the ranch of his great uncle by marriage."

"It's plausible," said Dumbledore, "do you have any way of checking it?"

"Not really," said Severus, "I've never been, and I have no excuse for inviting myself, and I'm not certain— … No, I imagine I _could _recognise the cheeky brat if I ran across him."

"Assuming he's not, as Nymphadora suggested, a metamorphmagus himself."

"I did not quite catch why she suggested that."

"I'm not clear either," said Dumbledore, "but it seemed to be something about how quickly he changed Harriet's body to match his own, or something."

"Something to watch out for then," said Severus, "in which case I wouldn't recognise him by face unless he wished to be identified."

More silence, Severus was not expecting it, but sometimes it was best to let the old man gather his thoughts. Or plan his next move, it was better not to ask sometimes.

"Has Lucius told you anything interesting?"

"About last night?" said Severus, "Hmm, mostly about how powerful Potter appeared, couched in something snide about keeping him away from Hogwarts until either his or Draco's marriages had been arranged."

"Hmm," said Dumbledore.

"Also something about if the Potters and Evans had been breeding for power, energy, or intellect, there might be a point where it would be safer to not go too far in that direction, other lines were liable to get jealous and make accusations about dark ladies or what not."

"Hmm," said Dumbledore.

"Though if they were intent on pursuing that path for another generation, he'd be happy point out eligible connections, though he surmised that I'd be in an equally good position to observe such things, as a Hogwarts professor."

"Umhhmph," said Dumbledore, "I never took you for the matchmaking type, but perhaps he has a point, do the lines ever seem to pursue certain types of partners across multiple generations? I often figured that they all were looking to attain some idealised average and tend to pick out opposing trends when they subconsciously become aware that they've gone too far."

"Did you just suggest that there is a logical reason behind the adage, that sometimes opposites attract?"

"Perhaps."

**{End Chapter 21}**


	22. End of Term

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it's inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I'm open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters WOULD have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**End of term**

"Watcher, Harry," said Tonks from the doorway of the compartment.

"What's up?" said Harriet.

"Just coming to say goodbye, I won't be coming back next year you know."

"Ah," said Harriet, "Right, do you already have plans?"

"I have some but I won't be sure about them until I get my NEWT results."

"Oh."

"So anyway," said Tonks, "I noticed that you can change your face faster than I can sometimes, is there a secret to that, or just stronger magic?"

"I practice to a timer," said Harriet, "instead of just free transforming all the time, I have faces I've already made up and named after a character that I play sometimes, then when I want the character I put on the whole face and body. I write all the names on a stack of cards and see how fast I can get through the stack."

"So you change everything at once instead of every part one at a time."

"That's part of it, the rest is just the practice."

"I see," said Tonks, "Well I'll try that and see what can figure out."

"Good luck," said Harriet, "Umm, and don't try it in the dorms, they get real tetchy about boys in the girls dorm. Though _sometimes _they didn't notice me for a minute or two."

Tonks grinned, "Yeah, the wards never minded me when I sneeze wrong, but if I stayed that way for any length of time…"

Harriet nodded.

"Have you seen Draco around?" said Tonks.

"No, but I sort of expect him to say hello to his other friends before he settles down for a game or a book."

"Right," said Tonks, "How did your library project go?"

"The non-restricted portion of the catalogue is mostly done," shrugged Harriet.

"How about the other project?"

Harriet shrugged again, "I got through half of a book case, if I don't go any faster next year, I'll only get through a book shelf or a little more."

"How many book shelves are there?"

"About twelve in the defence section," said Harriet, "Though the last two aren't very full."

"Hmm," said Tonks, "has there been a suggestion of spending the holidays on this project, or is it even all that high priority?"

"That's still up for debate," said Harriet, "and it seems like everyone has invited me to visit, and I've invited most of them to visit me, though I don't even know where my family is performing at the moment."

Tonks nodded and looked away, "Well there's always owls."

"Right."

"And the knight bus."

"What's that?"

"Hold out your wand hand on most roads in England, it will come. Take several galleons worth of sickles, just in case."

Silence for several seconds.

"So," said Tonks, "do you think Professor Quirrell will survive the summer?"

"Huh?" said Harriet, "I didn't hear that he was sick."

"Ah," said Tonks, "But there's the curse to think about."

Harriet had forgotten that rumour, "Do you really believe in that?"

"Well, a completely useless tradition that has been in effect for forty some years, that everyone including some of the best defence minds of the generation have died, or become unable to teach more than one year. In my entire Hogwarts career I think Quirrell has been the only defence professor well enough to never miss a lecture to the end of the year. Though at the beginning of the year I had lower hopes than usual for him. Anyway, I expect something is going on, though I can't really guess what it is."

"Oh," said Harriet, "OK then."

**Summer**

Harriet and Parvati followed Padma across the platform. As they'd been ordered in letters from their respective parents. Harriet thought that the three of them could move faster if Parvati were in charge of leading the way, but perhaps in that case they'd have gotten stuck talking to Lavender's clique first.

Either way, Harriet's parents wouldn't be coming to pick her up, she would be riding with the Patils.

It was all just as well, Harriet preferred following when in large crowds or strange places (though this wasn't as strange now, on the fourth visit.)

When she was on her own or leading, she had to assess the terrain and the crowd, when she was following she could really watch the crowd as a crowd, and it became more than just a mass of obstacles to route around, a cluster of herds, perhaps. Herds of individuals, some who knew where they were going, some who did not, some who'd been there and back again so many times that they could forget to about where they were going and how to get there and let the habit of their feet carry them along. Sometimes those would be looking around too, just like Harriet.

Some of them were following like she was and site-seeing.

Some of them were watching the crowd like she was.

And some of them were watching the crowd and not moving at all. Such as her honorary uncles Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape in a corner near the floos and the muggle barrier, talking and watching the pupils and their parents on their way home.

Professor Snape caught her looking and made a gesture, it wasn't a friendly wave, and it wasn't quite, "look where you're going," but it could have been. Harriet did that while she contemplated what else it might have been.

It might have been, "Don't draw attention to us."

_Fine, whatever._

Harriet wondered what they were up to.

They made it through the barrier and half way down the concourse Harriet noticed Sally-Ann Perks meeting a woman who looked a bit like her, but less like her than Helga Hufflepuff's portrait.

That was _not _the way breeding generally worked.

But then, Sally-Ann looked more like Helga than the Smith kid did either. It could have something to do with attitude rather than facial structure.

Back at home finally, Harriet was glad for the chance to stretch her legs, and as soon as she stowed her trunk she asked permission to walk around the encampment until bed, to familiarise herself with where everything was.

Her mother made the suggestion to wait until daylight, but didn't seem to expect Harriet would listen to her. Both her parents locked gazes for a moment and then told her what time her curfew now was. The same as her older brother. Awesome.

Harriet agreed and went out to find her brothers.

.

"'Arriet!" said Moit.

"Hello Moit," she said, and let him leave off what he was doing to give her a hug, "And most everyone calls me _Harry_ now," she said careful to pronounce the 'h'. Do you know if Dee is around?"

"He's _around_," said Moit, "But I don't know _where_ around."

"Alright," she said, "well whatever. Are you going to help me find him, or are you in the middle of something?"

"In the middle of something," he said, and waived a hand at the … well it looked like the inside of a drive axial but which ride it came from Harriet hadn't the faintest idea. Nor when it had been repacked last, given the not quite fresh colour of the grease.

"What's wrong with it?" said Harriet.

"Nothing's wrong with it," said Moit, "It's extra, Uncle Ben is letting us have races taking care of it before he throws it away."

"Oh," she looked around, "Is someone timing you?"

"No, right now I'm just practising."

"Oh, alright then," she said and wandered on.

.

She found Dietrich and two cousins, she got them to tell her what was new by acting interested, and without having to bring too much attention to how alienated they could choose to feel from the fact of how long she was gone. When asked she regaled them with safe stories about her friends and their adventures, she didn't say anything about Harry Potter, when they wanted more episodes than she was ready to tell, she told them of dressing up as "Harry Potter," but couched it in the context of everyone dressing up as famous witches and wizards, and she didn't know many famous witches or wizards that hadn't already been taken.

She was careful to mention only non-enviable facts about the library, such as, it didn't have a catalogue, and the pupils who wanted it to have one were having to make it themselves. All while not admit how large and extensive it truly was.

She miscalculated that one a bit, apparently it came out a bit too much like complaining, and she lost their interest. But she hadn't wanted to create more sense of difference between them. And the way to do that was not to harp too much on un-identifiable stories. But also to bring them on her adventures as if they'd have done similar things if they'd been there. But they wouldn't have, Dee would have been sorted … lion, probably. Miot, Badger, no… Raven, definitely Raven, though they'd probably disown him for a year or two, until they figured out what he was doing there. Ravens could be extremely closed minded in their own way. Except Padma, Padma was alert, well not _alert _so much as … a good listener when she chose.

And suddenly all her precautions about how to tell about Hogwarts seemed to waver in front of her, Padma and Parvati might tell everything that she'd tried not to tell.

But there was no hope for it, they'd tell what they wanted, and rumours would fly until everyone believed they'd connected the different versions of the different episodes into a what for each of them counted for a coherent whole, which might, or might not have any resemblance to actual events.

She caught herself sighing.

Dee yawned, followed by his companions. And this was her first night after promising to abide by her new curfew.

She reached for her wand to cast tempus, and remembered that she'd packed it away because she wasn't allowed to use it until next year anyway. She didn't much mind not having it available for simple things like tempus and lumos, she could start wearing her watch again, and perhaps a flashligh in her belt, like some of the roustabouts did.

But the truth was, she felt absolutely naked without her wand. And reading an entire stack's worth of restricted defence texts wasn't conducive to not worrying about how many different ways one could be attacked, and with how little warning.

She suddenly was wanting not just to have her wand handy, but also the solid walls of Hogwarts.

Three small gasps.

She looked up and around. They were staring at her.

"What just happened?" said Gren.

"I forgot something and then remembered it," said Harriet, "don't worry about it."

"It must have been something huge," said Dee, "you went from Prospero to Calisto or … Rosalind in flight, in a quarter second or less."

Harriet checked to make sure she was wearing her own face. She was.

"What?" she said.

"You went from the great and mighty wizard to the naked (in all but clothing) outcast, not your face, your act. I'm impressed that you did it without words."

Harriet shrugged, She was sort of impressed they noticed, "I just wondered if it's time for bed."

Dee looked at his watch, a lost-and-found that was never claimed, he'd earned a new battery for it and worn it ever since. She'd tried battery watches, but they didn't work for her, she had to use the wind up kind.

"Close but not yet," he said, "what did you _really_ think about."

Harriet shrugged, she didn't think she'd be able to explain directly, "I guess I realised why Uncle Royce doesn't lend his wand. It would be like Uncle Jer lending his pocket wrench."

Gren winced, then looked at her appraising, "So which pocket do you have it in? And can we see it?" she said.

Harriet blinked, "I _don't_ have it on me," she explained, "that's why I suddenly felt naked. I'm not supposed to use it, but … I think I will carry it after this, even if I keep it tucked away, there are some emergencies that I'd rather be fined for not keeping it hidden, than being paranoid the rest of the time from being without it."

They all nodded sagely, roustabouts carried flashlights and work gloves everywhere, the nurses carried rubber gloves and antiseptic everywhere, why wouldn't Harriet carry her wand, even if she wasn't permitted to use it 'professionally' yet.

.

It wasn't much longer before Dee glanced at his watch again and suggested that they should all be moving in the direction of bed. So they did. When Harriet was in her room she went through her trunk and located her old wind up watch, that she'd stopped wearing within a week after learning the Tempus charm. And she put her wand in its normal place under her pillow. She intended to sleep well at least, even if she wouldn't feel comfortable while up and about until she'd found a way to tuck it safely into her clothes.

**{End Chapter 22}**


	23. Summer

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. When Harriet references characters you don't know, take it as an invitation to catch up on your Shakespeare._

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error that takes you out of the story, feel free to tell me about it, though if it__'s inside quotes it _might _be intended as characterisation and I might choose not to fix it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions regarding that I__'m open to consider them._

_If there are scenes or one liners that you would like to see with these versions of these characters in future years feel free to send me those as well, no promises. Ditto if I missed obvious allusions to Shakespeare in conversations where characters would have indulged._

_There is already at least one companion OMAKE story in progress. _

_Based on feedback I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the hyphens it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research and aid she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

_..._

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**More to come.**

A day and a half of sewing experiments and she had her wand bound securely to her thigh, it would look odd if she wore one of her shorter skirts, but after ten months of following the letter of ancient pureblood modesty ritual and a similar period of time in weather so cold that she wouldn't have wanted to do otherwise, she wasn't actually in a hurry to wear any of her shorter skirts even if they had still fit. She merely made sure that all of the new skirts she acquired were longer than kilt's length and nothing would show under _normal_ circumstances.

When she emerged back into circus life she realised that Padma was taking Filipino fighting stick lessons from Sensi Balagtas, and Parvati who'd never before had a use for a riding crop was now carrying one with her everywhere, and was wearing her trick riding costume everywhere, instead of just on performance afternoons.

It took her only one question to Moit to determine that Padma's wand was embedded in the fighting stick that she wore on her back (not the practice one she was learning with) Or was merely shoved down in the same holster. And Parvati had something in her boot and something else in her riding crop.

Which was odd, when had Parvati acquired an additional wand? And how could either of them be fit in a riding crop.

...

The summer progressed mostly normally, she had a very enlightening, and perhaps somewhat depressing day with Ann, explaining everything that had happened over the course of the school year, and all the plots and counter plots that she seemed to have identified. Ann berated her for several things, for revealing some things, and for not capitalising on the revealing of others. But mostly she just sat and listened and diagrammed. The biggest question was, who had already known about Harry James Potter's scar. Because said Ann, something doesn't add up. But she didn't or couldn't explain what.

Ann was like that, she'd fix old translations of plays and make correction after correction to her actors' characterisations for several days and then two days after the first performance you'd suddenly realise six additional plots that you'd never noticed before. But if you went back to look they'd always been there, or could have been, but you couldn't see them until they were translated into language and characterisation that a modern audience could understand. And suddenly … Pop, all the characters were that much smarter, the fools were at least trying to be useful, the connivers were at least probably competent slytherins, and the heroes probably had more going for them than mere bravery and ethics.

...

Two days later, Ann had called her back and gave her a list of probable plots that the surface plots were the counter-plots to. It was both overwhelming and enlightening. It was also supremely amusing. "I wish I'd had you available to consult with in slytherin,"

Ann raised an eyebrow.

"Truly competent slytherins are hard to find," said Harriet.

"I was in Hufflepuff," said Ann, "and no, don't tell anyone that."

"Huh?" said Harriet.

"I attended as Glenda, and ran in to some very very sticky politics my fourth year. Enough so that I quit and attempted my owls. I didn't pass. As it is, I go by Ann now."

Harriet blinked, "Merlin, Ann, I'm so sorry,"

Glenda, no, _Ann_, let one corner of her mouth twitch up in acceptance and then frowned severely, "All of that is very confidential."

"As in 'life or reputation is at steak, ergo no one would forgive anyone if it came out poorly'?"

"In general yes," said Ann, "except the part where I'd never commit myself to withholding forgiveness, I might decide that the future would be better off if someone were not allowed to breed, but I don't think withholding forgiveness is quite the same principle, or a level of self sacrifice that I'd be willing contemplate."

That was in interesting difference of focus. Did it imply that hufflepuffs didn't worry with manipulating people, they were the slow and steady … farmers of the world. Farmers of society. Manipulators of the whole race. Eugenics was a different aspect of enforcing justice than Machiavelli generally was famous for talking about.

...

Several days later she received a letter that she read once and took to Ann, "What do you recommend I reply to _this?__"_

"Cousin Harri M.

"Disaster has struck, Dad and Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle went off somewhere with their investigative treasure seeker's supplies, and didn't come back when they said they'd be home by. And then almost four hours late, Mr. Crabbe did turn up alone and said the others were dead. With something wrapped up in dad's dragon-hide shirt and wouldn't permit anyone to touch it.

"He said it's the treasure they went for, I'm fairly sure he put it in one of their treasure rooms or labs somewhere, or just as likely buried it somewhere that may only be meaningful to the three of them. Mum and Mrs. Goyle haven't stopped asking him where the others are and what happened to them. He hasn't answered yet, except that they are dead and that there wasn't anything to bring back. Except obviously Dad's shirt. I don't know why I'm writing you, I just needed someone to talk to, and Blaise would say something vindictive and mean it to be funny, and the others wouldn't understand at all. I need to go, I'll finish this later."

...

"OK, I'm back, he's been in a drunken stupor for two days, Vince heard him say that the thing is cursed and they both shrivelled up the moment they touched it, that's why there was nothing to bring back. It shrivelled up Mr. Goyle's dragon-hide too but somehow doesn't hurt Dad's, so he wrapped it up in Dad's and brought it home."

"I tried my best bit of helpfulness by showing up at the Crabbes' as if my tutoring lessons haven't obviously been discontinued for a week, and acted as best I could as if I wished or expected that they would continue. Mr. Crabbe tried to put a brave face on it and told Vince and I to go riding for the morning and to be home by one o'clock sharp."

"That gave him a chance to sober up, and Vince a chance to get the whole last week off his chest. It's been awful of course, but it more than half way wasn't real to me until then. Very odd the things one's brain does to one to keep everyone functioning long enough for society to survive before it lets go and you realise that you're falling and you just didn't notice for the last week.

"There are lots of people that I've expected to die for lots of reasons, but not Dad. I don't know how to even think about it. Blaise could tell me something but I'm not sure he could tell me in a way that could be helpful in the state I'm in."

"Merlin, Harriet, I just want it to be over, I want him to walk in the door and be aggravated at Mr. Crabbe for making off with his shirt."

"I don't mean to be comic, or insensitive, that's exactly what I _don__'t _want to put up with Blaise being right now. And I know you've lost Aunts and Uncles before. Well, I just lost two at once and I still don't know how. Just that—

"Oh, we learned about curse breaking today, or at least, what the Fiendfyre curse looks like, apparently it's so powerful that it eats most other curses easily, we didn't learn how to cast it, and Mr. Crabbe made us stand way back, he said it's very strenuous to control, and that it can eat magical cores as easily as curses so never cast it until we've had proper training. And even then, never cast it without warning everyone nearby what we intend to do."

"Anyway, when it was all over Dad's shirt and the whatever it was had been reduced to white ash with a reddish green smudge in the middle. And a small stone the size of the end of your thumb, with a symbol that you'd probably recognise engraved in it."

"Harriet, if I hadn't insisted on seeing your cloak and taught you all the four points charm, Dad would still be here. It's my fault, and I can't even admit that it to anyone without putting you into danger. And I'd never be able to explain all that to Mum."

"Sorry to bother you with all this, but I just needed to tell someone."

...

"Sorry,

"Your cousin,

"Draco Malfoy."

...

Ann read it and shivered, "To start with, write what your first reaction to write is, then we'll think long and hard about correcting things we want to say better. If we think too much first you'll come off sounding forced, insecure, and perhaps insincere."

She plopped down paper and pencil, "You, write! I'm going to read this again."

...

Harriet wrote, and after a while stopped. Ann read it and suggested corrections, some for language, some for tact, and some for other things that Ann seemed to take for granted. Harriet agreed to some of the changes and rejected others as not appropriate to the kind of friendship they had.

Ann explained "in a situation such as this, it didn't matter what kind of friendship you might have had in the past, Draco will be very troubled and very lonely," she listed seven responses that people generally had to loss, especially loss of family members. She pointed them out in Draco's letter, "shock and denial, self blame, and I imagine that 'I wish he'd just come home' is the beginnings of 'bargaining.' The bargaining phase can be hard to listen to from your friends, they will say things such as what they'd have rather lost, what they would gladly give up if it would convince anyone with the power to change the past or it's consequences to do so."

"Is it about trying to find ways to _express_, umm, the _value_ of the thing lost?" Harriet said.

"Perhaps that is part of it," said Ann, "There is definitely some of that, and it's not clear to me whether it is more important for them to express the value of the loss in a way that you can understand, or if they just need to express it for their own sanity."

"I think I understand," said Harriet, "talking to you about all this has helped me feel more normal."

Ann nodded, "the wizarding world is a very different culture than either show business or your extended family. You should consider how best to make yourself available to the Patils especially so that you can share any advice back and forth about adjustments that you've learned how to make, for moving back and forth between the two cultures."

"Hmm," said Harriet.

"Back to Master Malfoy," said Ann, "Another aspect is loneliness or depression, this is not the sort of depression that you should invite them out and about to help them remember how to enjoy life, this is the type of depression where you do what you can to sit nearby and let them know that you don't mind listening to their stories of how life used to be better. You don't try to invite them into your wonderful life, you go down into their darkness and just keep them company. Eventually, they will remember that they have a life to get on with, and get on with it. They will be very unlikely to forget that you were strong enough and valued them enough to be present when they weren't pleasant to be around."

"I need to tell Padma," said Harriet.

"Huh," said Ann.

"Draco … this is private," said Harriet, "I don't mind you taking it into account in your interpreting of plots, and your counter plots, but it is not to be mentioned to anyone who hasn't already told you as much."

Ann narrowed her eyes, "Is it your secret to share?"

"It is Draco's and Padma's and they both have each other's permission to share at need. Draco asked Padma's permission to have his father attempt to arrange their marriage or courtship or however that goes. Padma sort of gave him permission and sort of told him to ask her permission again after she has her OWL results."

Ann sighed, "I'm assuming there was situational context in which it made sense for an eleven-year-old to be suggesting such things?"

Harriet couldn't explain so she just nodded.

"Oh wait," said Ann, "we're talking about an heir of a new pureblood family and the Patils. Hmm. Requesting that the discussion wait until her OWLs implies a certain level of confidence that her accomplishments will be enough above average as to increase her perceived value to his family."

"Or to increase her perceived value in general," said Harriet, "she was calculating for things that I'm sure I didn't understand. And she later got jealous of me acting in a way that I perceived as 'like his cousin' which I'm not quite, but I think she perceived as," Harriet shrugged, "something she ought to feel jealous about."

"So she turned him down, but feels a certain proprietary claim on him?"

"She didn't exactly turn him down," said Harriet, "Neither of them acted like she'd said 'no.' They sort of acted like they'd decided nothing but had exchanged complements."

"I _wish _I had a pensive," said Ann.

"The point," said Harriet, "Wasn't for you to know what they are going to decide about each other before they do, the point was for you to understand why I want to show this to Padma and have her listen to everything you just told me about the order of things in getting over this sort of thing."

"I can do that," said Ann, "But it probably would be better if you were the one to tell her, if she doesn't understand or seems to want to know more, send her to me."

"Oh, alright," said Harriet, not feeling confident at all that she could explain, but feeling as confident as she'd ever noticed feeling about anything. That if Ann said that Harriet was the optimal person to introduce the topic to Padma, that she was right about that, and that she should at least try. "Should I show her the letter?"

Ann reread the letter, "No, you should not. You shouldn't even have it with you when you go to see her."

_If you say so._

"What else?" said Harriet.

"Finish your letter," said Ann, "and ask Padma to deliver it for you."

"Do what?" said Harriet.

"Do you have any way to deliver it?"

"Hedwig will consent to deliver mail sometimes,"

"Has she ever made it through wards that you haven't already passed through?"

"Umm," said Harriet.

"I expect that is a 'no,' she's a hawk not a mail owl."

"But," said Harriet.

"Yes, some people have mail owls for pets, a few have them for familiars. But you aren't quite the type."

"Oh," said Harriet, "so … no I don't have a way to deliver mail to Draco."

"Good to know," said Ann, "remind me to teach you how to use the ministry and Gringotts mail routers sometime."

"Alright,"

"Next question," said Ann, "Do you want to be inviting Padma to go with you to crash Draco's grief party?"

"No, that doesn't sound right,"

"So what you want to be implying is that she'll be visiting him anyway about this, and would she take your letter along when she goes."

"Oh, I see," said Harriet.

**Parvati observes**

Parvati slogged through yet another paragraph about the philosophy of the ethics of how to act in public in order to be convincing to the general populace that they should behave well. She never would have guessed that something as interesting as 'how to think like a princess' could be expressed in such a boring tone, but she was glad that Padma had found the books and made her promise to read them all by the time they went back to school. At least the riding club had given her a chance to spend a little time with Padma at school. It was like Padma never cared about riding until suddenly there had been nothing to ride but brooms, and then there had been the riding clubs and she'd gone crazy.

It was kind of fun to have Padma go crazy again. They used to do everything together, and then Padma had discovered reading and that was all she did without orders. But now she was riding again, and taking fighting lessons of all things.

And here she was, Parvati of all people, reading a book as boring as this one.

Someone knocked on the door.

Parvati almost ignored it before she remembered that her mother had said she'd be stepping out for a bit. So she hopped up to see who it was.

Harriet came in and asked to see Padma.

"Padma is still at her fighting lessons," said Parvati, "but she should be back soon."

Harriet looked thoughtful, it wasn't a very good look on her, someone should warn her, "Would it bother you if I waited here?" said Harriet.

Which meant she actually wanted to talk to both of them. Probably about something Hogwarts related, where to hide a wand perhaps.

"I don't mind," said Parvati, "but I've been reading."

Harriet acted shocked, and then Parvati saw through it, "Oh shut up," she said, "just because I like dancing with horses doesn't mean I don't like to think."

Harriet smiled, "What are you reading?"

Parvati held up the book.

Harriet's mouth clicked shut, then she nodded, "alright, sorry, I'll try not to interrupt."

"Thanks," said Parvati, "but … can you explain why a commoner wrote this book,"

"A commoner didn't," said Harriet, "In England there are more levels of aristocracy between commoner and royalty, even if there are fewer between royalty and empire."

"I know, but… Ah," said Parvati, "That casts things in an interesting light,"

"No pun intended, I'm sure," smirked Harriet

Parvati almost stuck out her tongue, then decided against it.

Mum came in the back door and started moving around in the other room.

"Mum, Harry Matirni is here,"

"Oh," said Mum and came in with a slight bow.

Harriet returned a proper curtsy before she blinked and responded with a bow instead, the same bow Padma would have given Harriet's mum by accident sometimes.

The other door opened and Padma came in breathing harder than normal, but not hard enough to have been running all the way across camp… Probably she'd been breathing hard when she left her weapons training so she'd chosen to walk home quietly.

Harriet turned toward Padma and froze.

"Hi, Harry, what's up?" said Padma.

Parvati could see Harriet bite her lip. Good grief, Harriet hadn't been acting right at all, the whole time she'd been here in fact.

Parvati glanced back at her book and realised that this was one of those times that she _should _act differently than she _wanted _to act. She wanted to eavesdrop, perhaps hiding behind her book, and therefore she should either put her book away and advertise the fact that she was listening in case this was private enough for them to send her away, or she should go in the other room and read without invading their privacy. She shut the book and put it aside.

There was a rustle of parchment, not paper, parchment, it _was_ Hogwarts business.

"Would you give this to Draco when you go see him?" Harriet held the parchment envelope out to Padma.

Padma took it, but then stared up at Harriet, "Why do you expect I will be going to see him?"

Harriet winced, and breathed hard.

Parvati suddenly realised that Harriet, _Harriet_, was speechless, or as close as anyone had ever seen her.

"His Da is dead,"

"What?" said all three Patils.

"That's impossible," said Parvati, "Lord Malfoy is probably the most deadly wizard I can imagine."

Harriet nodded, "Well he's been missing for almost a week, he went with Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle to look for the resurrection stone and Mr. Crabbe came back alone and said the others were dead."

"Who told you?"

"Draco sent me a letter," said Harriet, "I wasn't sure if he'd sent you one also or if he would try to put a bold face on it and wait to write you until after he could finish without crying on it or explain how guilty he feels about it without it sounding like he's blaming us too."

"How could he possibly blame any of us about his Da going Indiana Jones and getting hurt?" said Parvati.

Padma huffed, "Someone left Harry a very old, very famous artefact, without explaining what it really was. She and Draco and some others were playing around with it, and in the process figuring out what it did, I figured out which famous artefact it was. In the process of proving that I was right Draco figured out that there was another completely different, equally famous artefact that ought to be equally easy to find. Apparently he told his Da and his Da went looking."

"Actually," whispered Harriet, "I showed his Da, I wasn't trying to, and … well I guess everyone assumed that his Da would assume the same things we did about how strongly it was likely to be guarded and none of us tried to tell him to be careful, and apparently he _was_ being careful, he took two friends along and they were all dressed in dragon-hide, and … and it mostly didn't help."

"Is it reasonable to be asking whether you two should even be going to that school?"

"Yes, we should," said Padma, "asking if we should avoid getting training is like asking if someone who is going to turn into a car later should avoid getting driving lessons, because people die in car accidents. Yes, it would be safer not to drive, but given that our magic will continue to get stronger, not being trained is counter-productive to staying safe. The safety questing that we need to be asking because of this is: can we satisfy ourselves with our own earnings and perhaps inheritance and not go chasing through other people's predictably deadly locks looking for ancient treasure?"

Padma wasn't looking at Mum, she was looking at Parvati.

Parvati had planned to get rich by marrying into a rich family or maybe even nobility. Such as Draco's family, not that she liked Draco in particular, he wasn't particularly brave or handsome, more like pretty, not that there was anything wrong with that, actually it was kind of cool, but… she'd rather someone built like Elija Wood, or something, but smart like the Weasleys and thoughtful like Blaise. But it looked like Hermione already caught Blaise, and Ron _wasn__'t _the least bit thoughtful, he … made a … cutely gross couple with Pansy. Was there such a thing as 'cutely gross'?

Parvati realised that everyone was looking at her now, she shook her head, and pointed at Harriet, "Digging through other people's junk boxes looking for something nifty to play with is something that Moit and Dietrich would get into, not me."

Harriet's mouth smiled and her eyebrows relaxed from, 'interested in the byplay between the Patil twins' back into sad and disturbed and not knowing how to handle the current situation.

Harriet _never _looked like that, except as Hamlet. (Or Olivia, which amounted to the same thing.)

Parvati sobered and dropped her pointing finger. She looked around, Mum was seeming to settle down, as was Padma.

Oh, Padma's last question had been theatre for Mum's benefit, and apparently Parvati had played the part Padma hoped for.

But Padma hadn't relaxed _enough. _So was there more at stake than just whether they were going back to Hogwarts next year?

"Padma?" said Parvati.

Padma turned back from staring at Harriet, "What?"

"Why would Draco be writing us?"

Padma sighed, "he requested permission to bring me to his parent's attention."

"Wow, congratulations," said Parvati, and glanced at Mum, "can his parents negotiate worth anything?"

"They have not contacted _me_," said Mum, "I can ask Paul,"

Padma sighed, "I asked him to wait until after OWLs." She glanced at Mum, "That's the tests at the end of fifth year, and I thought it would be a more objective proof of my abilities, than just Draco noticing me giving advice to someone. But anyway, I sort of expected him to tell his parents regardless, but ask them to wait for a while. I had the feeling that they collaborate about best ways to keep each others secrets, rather than keep secrets from each other. "

Parvati saw an intrigued look pass across Mum's face.

Padma continued, "in fact I was preparing myself to learn that you and Da already knew. I don't know much about how arrangement typically works, maybe that was longer to ask them and you wait than would be normal."

Mum made nod that wasn't quite agreement, perhaps 'agreement that that was a logical thing to be preparing one's self for.'

"I can't believe," said Parvati, "Draco. Draco! Wait, I guess I can believe it. He _would _want someone bookish and smart like you. I can imagine you two could work well together, assuming a task that even _required _a concerted effort from both of you."

"Parvati, you're babbling," said Mum.

Parvati realised that she didn't really have any overriding point she was arguing toward, and therefore the train of thought that she was verbalising as it appeared, in fact, wasn't likely to be helpful for anyone. She shut her mouth.

"It may or may not intrigue you to know he noticed me during a discussion of political philosophy."

"We are not in India, we do not _have _politics," said Mum.

"The way law and politeness flow between the magical nobility here," said Padma, "the policies of apology and retribution is not only personal and family and religious, but state and ethnic and epistemological."

"Well of course they are," said Mum, "but I don't expect children or English to understand about that."

Padma shrugged, and glanced at the end table, "The book Padma is reading, you should read it also, Harriet told me Draco had recommended it. It's written by a cousin of our Transfiguration Professor. The English side of her family."

"Hmm," said Mum, "It will be interesting to see what it has to say."

Padma nodded, "If there are Indian books on the subject, I'd like to see them."

"There are," said Mum, "if you're ready for them, I'll find them for you."

"Thanks," said Padma, "In the mean time, can you and dad advise me about what would be appropriate in this situation?"

"What do you wish to do, in this situation?"

"I want to go visit Draco," said Padma, "I want to make sure he knows I am … that we are available while he's recovering from his Father's death. I want him to know that we can see the person, despite the immediate circumstances, I think that would be a gesture he would notice. And someday he's going to wonder if anyone who pays attention to him is paying attention to him or to his circumstances, and … this might be my only chance to prove that his a change to his circumstances isn't enough to scare me away."

Mum nodded, "and what are your concerns regarding that course of action?"

"Like Harriet said," said Padma, "I'm concerned that he will say things he doesn't mean in the process of attempting to communicate his grief and fear. I would wish to overlook such statements. But I don't know for sure that I'd be able to, and I don't know for sure if he would have the presence of mind to apologise, and if he does try, I fear he may not manage to meet the standards that either of us hold."

"Understood," said Mum, "Paul and I will take that into consideration."

"Thanks, Mum," said Padma.

Harriet's mouth worked, and she glanced toward the door.

"Don't worry," said Padma, "If I don't … have definite plans to deliver it before the end of the week, I'll return it to you then, or as soon as I know that definite plans preclude delivery."

"Alright," said Harriet, "thanks."

"Not a problem," said Padma.

...

**{End Chapter 23:End Part 1}**

Additional author's note:

Yes, I'm already about half way through third year though it's still rough around the edges, I should begin posting second year shortly after Easter.


	24. 2-1: Holidays end

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I__'m open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry__'s second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Shopping**

About midsummer Harriet was instructed by her mother to write a letter to her godfather Snape, requesting his advice whether her family was allowed to go school shopping on their own or whether he could recommend other arrangements.

He wrote back that the Crabbe family was already escorting the Malfoy line and clients, and they'd probably be easily persuaded to take along Harriet and the Patils.

Harriet showed her Mother.

"How well do you know them?" said Mum.

"Well enough," said Harriet, "Vincent hangs around Draco all the time except when he's studying, and even then sometimes. They're both more into sports."

"Be more specific," said Mum.

"Umm, around here they'd be more likely to be roustabouts or bouncers than performers, but they're loyal to the Malfoys."

"Ah," said Mum, "Now, Harriet-the-adult is permitted to go with them if she believes it wise. However, do you trust that it is _appropriate _enough to pass on Severus' suggestion that the Patils accompany the expedition?"

Harriet looked over the letter again, "he keeps saying _family_," said Harriet, "I'm guessing that means it's already a family outing. I expect it's ok."

Mum read the letter again too, "Alright, if you're sure."

...

The day arrived, and Harriet the Patils assembled behind the Patil's trailer and clutched the playing card that had been enclosed with Mr. Crabbe's reply.

At nine thirty sharp they all gripped a corner and tore it. A undefinable interval later they were in the street outside The Leaky Cauldron.

They made their way through into Diagon Ally and met the rest of the Crabbes in front of Gringots. Gregory Goyle was with them, as were Draco and his mum. All three witches made their curtsies to Lady Malfoy and to Mr. and Mrs. Crabbe. Before they all went into Gringots and sorted themselves into different queues.

Another half hour and they were out and shopping.

Harriet thought, They took an inordinate amount of time in the apothecary, but Draco and his Mother seemed to be as interested in potions as Harriet's mother.

Harriet looked up when she realised that Mr. Crabbe was standing next to her, observing the Malfoys critique the merchandise. Observing with her the way her own Da sometimes observed with her.

"What do you see?" said Harriet. It was her father's line, but since Mr. Crabbe didn't seem to realise that they might be 'observing together' rather than just observing simultaneously.

"They grow closer again," said Mr. Crabbe, "they used spend a lot of time together when Draco learned to brew from her. Later his studies kept him with me or his father. Now he doesn't have his father."

"Yeah," said Harriet, "I can tell that he misses him."

"I fear that he will not learn proper defence at Hogwarts."

"Professor Quirrell wasn't much at teaching," agreed Harriet, "but he did survive the whole school year. I hear that's something of a rarity."

"Yes," said Mr. Crabbe, "perhaps the curse is weakening after so many years."

"Is there really a curse?"

"There seems to have been, but perhaps we will soon learn that it has failed."

"How would we know that it has broken?"

"When a professor of defence teaches two years in a row," said Mr. Crabbe, "Last year the professor survived the term but seems to have decided not to teach again,"

"Did he tell anyone why?"

"I heard that he just disappeared?"

"What? When?"

"Sometime in August."

"The ides perhaps?"

"Almost exactly, how did you know?"

"He visited me to ask if I knew where the young Harry Potter lived, I said 'no' of course, and he got so angry he had a stroke or a heart attack or something. We called an ambulance of course, but they couldn't do anything for him. He was dead before they arrived at hospital."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I was just wondering if he disappeared straight from wherever to visit me, where he died. Or if he went around looking for other interesting things before he decided that the next interesting thing he wanted to find was Harry Potter. Or for that matter, who told him to talk to me."

"Oh, I see," said Mr. Crabbe, "I have no idea what he was doing before, nor if he had special reasons to be looking for Heir Potter, though obviously he had some reason to get passionate about his search."

"Yeah," said Harriet, "I was wondering about that."

"Anyway," said Mr. Crabbe, "The reason I brought it up, I was wondering if you're interested in joining the defence tutoring that I generally run for the boys during the summer?"

"Umm?" said Harry, trying to remember all the things she'd need to verify first in order to be an acceptably suspicious client representing her sponsor's interests, And she should filter all that through how much respect a new client line should show an older half-blood line. But what she really wanted to know was how good Crabbe could be if he just failed to bring back the head of his sponsor's house alive. Which even she had more tact than to ask directly. On the other hand, he had made it home alive where his better equipped head of house had not.

"You don't have to decide now," he said.

"I am interested," said Harry, "but I would like more information in order to decide, and I would probably need a lot more information in order to convince my parents."

"Yes, I see," he said, "would you like me to stay after we finish shopping and discuss it with them?"

"I suppose," she said, "I was thinking more in terms of brochures and things, but if it's just something you and Lord Malfoy planned out a couple years ago for his heir and those of his client lines, I imagine making a brochure would be somewhat extraneous."

He laughed, "Yes, quite."

"It looks like they're done, finally."

.

The next stop was to be Flourish and Blots, but when they got out of the Apothecary there was such a mob around Flourish and Blots, that Mrs. Crabbe suggested that they shop at 'that other book store.'

Mr. Crabbe appeared to be not entirely comfortable with the idea, but he glanced over his little group, and at the thronging mob, and led his group away from the excitement.

Apparently 'that other book store' was two doors down into a side ally that seemed to get rapidly seedier farther down.

Once the book shopping was finished, Vincent and Draco begged for a chance to go farther down the street to the antique shop. The adults conferred for several minutes, in the end they did go, it was a dim shop filled with just the sort of eccentric artefacts that one would expect the wizarding world to come up with. And then discard at a second hand shop.

They hadn't been browsing for more than about two minutes when one of the clerks noticed Mr. Crabbe and came out with a small box of odds and ends.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Crabbe," she said, "there hasn't been much interest in these sorts of things."

_Objects too eccentric for the wizarding world to be interested in? _Harriet thought_, This I have to see this._

"Alright," said Mr. Crabbe and took the box, "Thanks anyway," he held it up to his chin and poked through it. Apparently taking inventory, double checking if they had bought any of the things he'd brought in earlier.

After a moment he suddenly made an odd expression and pulled out a small leather bound book and held it out to Harriet. "See what you make of this."

Harriet had barely taken it from him when her head started throbbing, she screamed and almost dropped it, but as she'd just become extremely dizzy so with her reflexes demanding that she catch her balance on whatever was available, her fingers locked tight in a way that reminded her later of Professor Quirrel's death grip on her shoulder. They'd tried to use a screwdriver to pry his fingers off before one of the roustabouts suggested penetrating oil. Harriet was very glad that had worked.

A year, or a moment later her lungs were empty and she heard the notebook screaming also, well more of a squeal actually. A bit like a teakettle just coming off the heat. She looked down, to see ink running out from between it's pages like juice from an orange, and it dripped to the floor and splattered like dark blood. Where it gradually began to bubble and steam for no obvious reason.

Then Harriet caught her breath and screamed again, but stopped mid-scream because the she'd gotten her fingers to unlock and dropped the book in the middle of its puddle. The pain in her head had almost instantly started to fade. But it didn't stop throbbing.

Harriet caught her breath again, but refrained from farther screaming, she looked up at Mr. Crabbe. But the movement was too quick, too soon, and she lost her balance. He caught her and pulled her away from the mess and got her sitting down.

All the while muttering apologies, and whispering research notes to himself.

...

When Harry came to herself, she was on a very comfortable suede love seat next to Mrs. Patil, who was watching Paul and the Crabbes confer with Lady Malfoy about the spilled book. Whatever it was. Whatever it had been?

She took a deep breath and sat up straighter, "What _was_ that?"

"Nothing important they say," said Mrs. Patil, "a book that a pupil enchanted as part of an experiment of some sort. Very curious but no one seems upset that it finally stopped working."

"Oh," said Harry, "Was it supposed to make my head hurt?"

"I don't think that was the book," said Mrs. Patil in an undertone, "I think that was the protective runes your mother carved on your head the day she adopted you. Apparently, they interpreted the book's magic as an attack and took it apart, I'm not surprised that they had to borrow some of your power to finish the job."

"Oh," said Harry, "wait, I'm adopted?"

"Hush," hissed Mrs. Patil, "Yes, something to talk about when we're back among those more strongly allied with your family."

"Oh dear," whispered Harry, "yes, alright,"

But though she _said _nothing, she couldn't leave it aside. What did it mean that she was adopted? Was that why she was a witch and the rest of the family had been squibs? (Except for Mum's little sister Lily and Da's middle brother, Royce.) Who were her _real _parents? Or were both of those magical relatives adopted too. Was there a big conspiracy of the wizarding world placing barely magical orphans with deserving squibs just in case they turned out magical… or merely squibs for that matter. That sounded like almost weird enough for a certain portion of the wizarding world, but not most of it, most of it would place children with relatives or parentally chosen surrogates, or whatever. Though parentally chosen surrogates would almost certainly be chosen from the sponsor line, or from the nearest trusted client line.

While she pondered, Draco bought two pairs of magic mirrors and gave a pair and a half to Padma. So that she'd be able to talk to him while she was at home, and would be able to talk to her parents when she was at school.

Which led to the Patils buying another two or three pairs.

Harriet thought about the mirror that she'd sent to her parents to send to Harry. She wasn't sure if they'd sent it, but he'd never used it to call her. And no one had ever responded when she tried to call him by it. Perhaps it had broken in shipment, but he should have written her a note to send another. Or something. She decided to buy two pairs also, she'd give one to her parents, and one to Ann.

...

On the way back Lady Malfoy suddenly paused mid-stride after several seconds she looked around, "pardon me, I'll only be a few minutes,"

"Milady?" said Mr. Crabbe.

"Or go on without me," said Lady Malfoy, "I can catch up." And with that disappeared into a nearby shop.

"As your retainer," Mr. Crabbe huffed under his breath, and motioned the group to stand just to the side of the door while he and Draco went inside. True to her word she came out in less than three minutes with a bag of supplies and large white owl on her shoulder.

"But Mum," said Draco, "we don't need another mail owl."

"She's not a mail owl," said Lady Malfoy, "Bennu is a familiar."

He started another objection but Mr. Crabbe silenced him with a hand on his shoulder, followed by some sort of glaring conversation. After which Draco apologised for "disrespect and jumping to conclusions."

The Patils had a brief conversation about buying a mail owl of their own, but decided against it, they had mirrors after all, and they already had learned to make do with the Hogwarts mail owls and the Gringotts mail router.

...

Harry struggled a moment with the huge latch, then slipped inside the shipping container that held her mother's lab.

After several seconds Petunia glanced up from the ingredient that she was preparing, "Hello Harriet, are you here to help or is there something you're wanting to make?"

"Are those my only two options?" said Harry.

"Not necessarily," Petunia straightened and turned around, caught off guard by the girl's flippant tone, "What's up?"

"Mum, umm, Am I really adopted?"

"Who told you that?"

"Mrs. Patil," said Harry.

Petunia snorted, "She doesn't know what she's talking about," said Petunia, "or mostly doesn't."

"What do you mean?"

Petunia grimaced, "There is no test on earth, scientific or magical, that can prove you're not my child."

"Umm?"

"I adopted you by a very expensive ritual makes you my child, in the eyes of blood and magic. And the hour you turned two years old I finished carving the rune diagram that your birth-mother started at a year and a quarter. Completing its protection and giving it back most of the power it should have had if she'd been able to wait until your three year birthday like she should have."

"Interesting," said Harry.

"Your father took a very expensive potion himself so that for the duration of the ritual he'd be able to play the part of both your birth father and your adoptive father. Making it so that magic itself recognises us as legitimately chosen by your birth parents to raise you."

"Creepy," said Harry.

Petunia shrugged, "magicals of all types were already snooping around by that point it was starting to get difficult to stay in place long enough for the locals to word of mouth us enough business to be worth the trouble of moving. But changing your ancestry meant that the few who did find you and confront you could be driven off by pointing out that you were ours directly and therefore not the war survivor they were looking for. That was before you solved the problem the rest of the way by changing gender. "

"So I'm … really Harry Potter?"

"That is what your birth parents, your late Aunt and Uncle called you, yes."

"Is that as unusual a way of saying that as it feels like?"

"Yes," said Petunia, "but it was a desperate situation, and unusual methods were called for."

Harriet sat down and considered the new information. It was a lot to take in and she didn't think she'd be able to help with potions at one hundred percent. In fact perhaps she shouldn't be asking Mum… (or was that Aunt Petunia) at such a time.

"What were the runes?"

"Don't remember them all off the top of my head, I've got them written down, in my rune book. So did Mum and Lily for that matter. I expect you'll copy everything you want from all three when you move out."

"Oh,"

"Or you can do that now," said Petunia, "If going off to school is close enough to the same thing in your mind."

"Why would or why wouldn't it be?"

"Lily and I were both pushed to make the examination when we got engaged. As if we didn't have enough other paperwork to do at that point."

"So for you it's more of a starting a family thing, rather than a coming of age thing?"

"Yes."

"Alright," said Harry, "I'll wait. At Hogwarts we don't formally study runes until third year anyway."

"That sounds familiar."

"Anyway," said Harry, "you said Da took a potion so he could give consent for Uncle James?"

"It needed to be a bit more emphatic than consent, but yes."

"Ok, but, does that mean James and Lily wanted someone else to raise me?"

"Yes and no," said Petunia, "they picked out godparents, who would have stood in for mentors and role models should either one of them fail to provide the parenting experience you needed, either through death or disability, or moral failing. They neglected to pick out surrogate parents in the case that both should die."

"Ah,"

"Which is odd," said Petunia, "Lily had a tendency to think of everything, but perhaps even she had a limit how negative an outcome she was willing to visualise in her plans."

"So who were m— Harry's godparents?"

"His godmother was Alice Longbottom,"

"Ouch," said Harriet, "Sensible from everything I've heard but," she sighed, "too bad."

"And Harry's godfather was to be his cousin Sirius Black,"

"Ew," said Harriet, "and we know how _that _turned out."

"Quite."

"Alright," said Harriet, "Thanks for telling me."

"You're welcome," said Petunia, "I don't suppose I need to tell you how thoroughly I wish things had turned out differently."

"Mum, I've been listening second hand to Draco," said Harriet, "I … I think I get it as well as I'm likely to be able to without losing another relative."

Petunia made a sound that might have been intended to be a snort, but came out more of a long gentle moan.

"On the other hand," said Harriet, "I will also listen for as long as I can bear it if you need to say it out loud."

Petunia snorted properly that time.

"By which… I mean, probably umm, on and off for two or three days."

"So you can be sweet," mumbled Petunia, "In your own awkward fashion."

"Sorry," said Harriet.

"No, I understand," said Petunia, "why don't you go climb something?"

"What?"

"One of the trapeze ladders or Hathaway castle. Get some fresh air, stretch your limbs, get a fresh perspective, meditate, whatever it is you do up there."

"Oh," said Harriet, "_that_." She didn't know Mum knew about that.

"Yes, that," said Petunia, "I'll probably be here or somewhere equally easy to find when you're in the mood to talk some more."

"Alright," Harriet sighed and went out. As she reached the bottom step Hedwig flew over head with a cry of welcome.

"Yes yes," greeted Harriet, "I'm on my way."

Hedwig croaked a negative and flew off toward the corals.

It only took a long moment for Harriet to translate what the circus must look like from above compared to Hogwarts. It took her only half as long to understand what Hedwig wanted.

"But I don't have a _broom_ Hedwig," said Harriet, but if Hedwig wanted her moving not sitting, the trapeze would have to do, assuming no one was using it.

When Hedwig saw where she was going she called out her frustration, but signalled her acquiescence by flying figure eights between Harriet and her destination.

**Birthday Advice**

Harriet's real twelfth birthday finally came. Mum got her another potions book. Dad got her a book called the _The Religions of Man,_ Moit had made several more puppets for her collection, and Deit found a collection of Keats she hadn't seen yet.

The party wasn't much more exciting than usual, though several people asked her questions that made her realize that twelve was a big number even if it wasn't quite the 'coming of age' that Mum had stated in her letter to the headmaster. At first it got her thinking, but as the well wishing and congratulations and hints piled up she began to get nervous.

Toward the late afternoon she took Deit aside.

"What's up?" he said.

"Everyone's talking as if twelve is an extra important birthday, or that thirteen will be the big one next year, but either way… Can you give me any helpful hints at how to be twelve… successfully?"

Deit shrugged, then stared off into space for several seconds. He gave his signature playful frown. "Yeah, grown-ups don't like children fighting, which I'm sure you've noticed. But as long as there's no blood or broken bones it doesn't actually scare them much. Because without clubs or knives or falls kids can't actually do much damage to each other, or to grownups. But they start to get more concerned when we start getting close to their size we start getting the strength and mass to be able to do serious damage without the force multiplication from tools that little kids need before they can do damage with or without meaning to. "Hmm," said Harriet.

"So … I'm not going to say you've got to stop playing rough," said Deit, "I'm just warning you that at some point you'll suddenly be big enough that if you do anything that looks remotely violent or dangerous, grownups are going to be shocked and scared and think that you really want to hurt people, unless you _go out of your way _to make sure that you don't. Such as taking precautions like going where there are mats, or and wear pads, or fall harnesses or whatever is appropriate for the dangers you're risking.

"Mmm," said Harriet, "which might be good ideas anyway, if one is capable of thinking that far ahead?"

"Exactly," agreed Deit, "Hmm, that's my biggest tip, I'll try to remember more."

They were silent for a while, "I guess that might be just one aspect of a general trend of grown ups start expecting you to think ahead, even of things that you have never heard rules about, and sort of, figure out what the rules would be if anyone actually bothered to make rules about whatever."

"Wow, ok," said Harriet, "So thinking ahead is no longer, a complement, like 'Oh my, that was thoughtful of you,' now it's a responsibility that they'll be annoyed at me for not managing, 'you ought to know better by now,' only about all sorts of random things I haven't been allowed to do so I have no way of knowing better yet?"

"Pretty much," said Deit, "It does take some practice, and it helps if you can watch other experienced people at whatever task you want to try, and if you have a chance to watch long enough, I like imagining what goes wrong if they leave out a step here and there, having an idea what things ought to be able to go wrong sort of gets you some practice … well when you try, if something _does _go wrong, you don't have to take time being surprised, you can jump straight to trying to figure out how to fix it."

"Interesting," said Harriet.

"Of course watching someone else is no substitute for practising it for real."

"Of course."

**Train**

"Hello?" said Blaise.

"Hi," said Neville, ignoring the question and the implied challenge and just came in and looked around. He seemed momentarily disappointed.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"I was looking for Draco," said Neville.

"Haven't seen him for about half an hour," said Harry putting herself forward, "but we expect him back any time, do you want to wait or leave a message?"

"Sure," said Neville, "tell him I'm looking for him and Susan Bones or Tracy Davis, and Zechariah Smith."

"Draco, Tracy, Susan Bones, and Smith," said Harry, "Alright I'll tell him."

"Thanks," said Neville and looked over the compartment again, "I umm, I want to talk to most of you later," he said, "but I can't disappear for hours quite yet, see you later." And with that, he disappeared back out into the corridor.

Blaise snickered.

"What was _that_ all about?" said Hermione.

"That was Neville playing at being Draco," said Blaise, "except he's playing with half his cards showing, and not having a clue how to be polite at the same time."

"You _know _what this impending meeting is going to be about?" said Harry.

"In vague terms, yes," said Blaise.

Padma put down her book, "Stop being infuriatingly vague yourself. Either tell us what you know and how you know it, or be quiet."

"I infer that it's gossip of some sort about the doings of the Hogwarts Board of Governors," said Blaise, "Draco and I used to eavesdrop on the small talk that happened as members made their way between the floo and the study, when his Dad and any of the others were meeting between sessions to negotiate power blocks. We couldn't exactly eavesdrop while they were in his study. And that was hardly the only committee that Mr. Malfoy was on, but if that's the list of pupils Neville wants to pass information to, it almost certainly involves the Hogwarts Board of Governors, or several things have all come up that merely mimics the same list of members. The most telling thing about the list after the members was how he said, 'Susan Bones or Tracy Davis' since Tracy's Mum is only on the board because she rented the position from Susan Bones until she is of age."

There seemed nothing to say against that line of reasoning, and who cared really about the Board of Governors, Draco had always seemed to overestimate how much his fellow pupils cared. And no one could remember a time when something happened because "his father heard about it,"

Blaise for instance didn't care, so much as enjoyed knowing things he wasn't supposed to. It was a useful currency, especially in slytherin.

"So does the Malfoy seat disappear until Draco comes of age too, or does his mother vote it until he is of age or does Draco not get it until she passes it to him, or whatever?" said Padma.

"It might depend on how it is entailed," said Blaise, "traditionally Mrs. Malfoy could vote it unless Draco objected, but there's no law that says the foundation can dictate how you bequeath your property."

They went back to studying until Draco arrived.

"Welcome back," said Harry, "Did Neville find you?"

"Yes, he did," said Draco, and looked around intrigued.

"So, what was it about?" said Padma.

Draco sighed and looked around again, "Mum and Dad used to split the administration of the Malfoy holdings along mostly traditional lines, Mum running internal affairs Dad handling the external affairs, which mostly meant the Malfoy seat on the Wizingmot, the Gaunt and Grey seats on the Hogwarts Board of Govenors, and arranging our vote or negotiating our power block in other corporations where we hold enough of an interest to make it worth the effort, such as the Daily Prophet."

"And Mum would run our various estates, through foremen naturally, and oversee the corporations where we own a controlling interest, so there's hardly any negotiating power blocks, just overseeing the performance and effectiveness of the corporate officers."

"Very traditional," agreed Blaise. But he wondered why the hell Draco was explaining all that to all of them, perhaps it was part of his contract with Heir Potter to bring Harriet and/or Hermione up to speed on the various traditions.

"Not that Mum lacks negotiating skills," said Draco, "they'd synchronise and collaborate and advise each other constantly, it's just a question of who did what."

A brief pause, "Anyway," continued Draco, "After Dad died she asked her sister, my Aunt Tonks to come in and help with some of it. Anyway, there seems to be some sort of deal going on between Mum and Neville's Grandmother regarding an upcoming vote."

"What sort of vote?" said Hermione.

"What sort of deal?" said Blaise.

Draco looked around and sighed, "There's some concern about how late the new defence teacher was chosen. And more concern about his choice of textbooks."

"What's wrong with them?" said Hermione, "They're best sellers aren't they?"

"Quite," Draco frowned, "they're novelisations of memoirs or however you choose to describe them, they're well enough written to popularise the study of defence, and perhaps the study of a degenerate form of sleuthing, but they _aren__'t _instruction manuals or reference works. Perhaps we should all read them, but there's not enough practical content there for them to deserve _study_. At least so far as I can tell. Also using his position as defence professor to force 280 or so pupils to buy seven novels each that he earns royalties on, looks like a conflict of interest no matter how you slice it."

There was silence for a while, finally Harriet said, "How's your Mother's new owl?"

Draco smirked, "she's taken to riding her broom again, in the evenings just after sundown. I guess she wasn't kidding about it being a familiar, it rides on her shoulder the first quarter of the morning before disappearing to it's roost."

"Was that a non sequitur," said Blaise, "or … does she rides her broom _with_ the owl?"

"They fly in formations or something," said Draco, "I can't quite describe it. I think I saw them playing tag or something, once, but it's so hard to see just as the light is changing. It's all very eccentric, or it would be except … I think it's her way of mourning or something."

Blaise opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded. After another pause he said, "that makes sense, several of mum's friends bought pets right after their kids moved out. It makes sense that there are different kinds of loneliness and different strategies for dealing with it."

...

Harry stopped as they marched up hill to the waiting carriages.

"What's up," said Blaise in a weak attempt at hiding his annoyance for the sudden stop _right_ in front of him, at least he wasn't carrying his trunk.

"I can see the thestrals a lot clearer," said Harry, "It's weird, it's like all my memories of them are now perfectly clear, even though I distinctly remember being barely able to tell anything was there before."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's like my memories of thestrals changed, but my memories _about_ what I could tell about thestrals haven't changed to match."

"That doesn't sound normal at all," said Draco, "You may want to ask Professor Snape to check that out for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"He is a practitioner of legilimency and occlumency," said Draco, "the study of memory and knowledge and it's defence. If someone's been editing your memory you might should know about it."

"Oh," said Harry, "Yeah, no doubt."

**{End Chapter 1}**

Yes, I'm going to transition chapter target size from 3000-5000 words to 6000, we'll see how it goes.


	25. 2-2: Back to school

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I__'m open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by it's protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry__'s second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Sorting**

For being in an intimately familiar place, Parvati felt more than half lost, moving from the train to the thestral coaches, from the coaches to the great hall for the welcoming feast, and finding her place near enough her friends that they could speak to her if they wished, all felt as normal as it had coming back from new year's last winter. Though it felt weirder to be separating from Padma than it had last year. How could that be?

But here came the new pupils ready to be sorted, and everything was different.

A different view from the tables instead of the little passage up from the dock. A different song from the hat. A different, tiny almost-sermon from the Deputy Headmistress.

A different group of _first_ years.

They'd be looking up to her for advice and help finding their way around. Parvati wasn't sure she'd be much help the first day or two. It had been a long summer, and the castle could be so confusing at certain times of day.

They all looked hyper. That couldn't be good. She thought about Dean and Seamus and Lavender…

Did any of the other houses get hyper ones, or only the lions?

But most of them grew out of it.

It was hard to tell right now, the real hyper ones from those who were merely excited because of Magical School! Boat Ride! Huge Castle! Singing Hat?

Parvati giggled.

Lavender made her explain what was funny.

"Were we ever that hyper?" said Parvati, "or was it only right after the boat ride?"

Lavender smiled and followed her gaze to the waiting pupils.

Finally the sorting began.

The lions did get the first hyper one, a boy named Colin Creevy. He blushed deeply for the applause that the table gave him, but he was grinning. And now all the other firsties knew what to expect.

So that wasn't so bad. Next.

…

Last of all came a tiny redhead, who barely had the hat on before it was off again and she had jumped down of the stool started toward the spattering of applause. Then she froze and her face flashing a deeper red than her hair before she turned so pale that her freckles showed horribly. And she wobbled on her feet.

Instantly four slytherins jumped up to help her, though she seemed only to need to be led to a chair and a reassuring pat on the back.

So … the youngest Weasley was in slytherin, the Weasley twins were muttering things about disowning her, or about trying to keep her from getting caught in the cross fire, or about not worrying about it and _letting her _get caught in the crossfire.

And for once Parvati couldn't tell if they were speaking in fun.

And those two were so capable, the idea of them choosing to be serious sounded like an omen of something terrifying. Second only so far to hearing that Lucius Malfoy was dead. But that hadn't been an omen of anything, whatever booby trap his expedition had run into had been handled and dismantled before the news had even reached Harriet.

Parvati hoped that the Weasleys wouldn't do anything _truly _awful.

But they didn't sound joking anymore.

"Yeah," muttered someone beside her, "it can happen to anyone."

Parvati hadn't heard the beginning of the conversation, "What can?"

"Not everyone sorts instantly," said Neville, "some people take a little longer because they have talents or even carefully honed abilities that are appropriate for more than one house sometimes the hat can't sort them at all and lets the pupil decide."

Parvati thought back to Padma's theory that the pupils sorted themselves, though often with help or direction from the hat. She decided not to mention it, for Padma it probably had been true, she herself had definitely not perceived the sorting process the way Padma had described.

The hat had nudged her at hufflepuff every time she'd tried to ask to be put with Padma, and toward slytherin every time she'd tried to lie that she _did too _like books as much as Padma. And the thought of ending up anywhere other than with her sister, or in Gryffindor had felt like she'd be calling down a certain and terrible (but far off) _Doom_ on _everyone_. And of course she couldn't do _that_.

"What other houses did the hat suggest for you?" said Parvati. Several others were looking their way now.

"All of them, actually," said Neville, and started stuffing his face.

'Conversation over' in other words.

Parvati took a somewhat more dainty bite.

Several minutes later Neville turned and whispered in her hear, "but slytherin especially,"

And the most outspoken of their class had spent the entire first three months bad mouthing slytherins, and no one called him down. It wasn't any wonder that Neville had kept quiet for so long. He was still quiet, but … she suddenly realised that she already knew he wasn't … zoned out. She'd _always _known he was very aware of … something. Not _politics _exactly, but she'd noticed him sometimes look up from his homework, and stare into space for minutes at a time, she'd suspected he'd been eavesdropping, but she could never tell in which direction, and what he did with the knowledge afterwards she never figured out, he didn't gossip like Lavender. If he just calculated things with it, like Padma would … if she studied things other than books.

Padma made up her mind to pay attention to Neville, he might be quiet but he wasn't … weak.

**Orentation**

Harriet watched the orientation meeting with mixed interest. Last time she'd been somewhat aware that there were embedded inside jokes. But this time she'd understood most of them. And she'd understood that most of them were to keep the older pupils paying attention and entertained until the end when schedules and things would be handed out. Also in order to help remind the second years to resume thinking and acting as pupils in Hogwarts as opposed to whatever else they'd been thinking as at home over the summer.

On the other hand, perhaps they'd primed her to pay better attention to house and school politics last year.

But mostly she watched the new pupils, she'd managed to identify a piece or two of the ancestries of a few of them. But most of them weren't those she recognised.

Ron's sister was obvious of course, she could see even more Prewett now than she could last year. Of course she hadn't had a chance to look nearly as closely last year.

It was interesting how much angst seemed to be riding on her being sorted slytherin. But perhaps … Ron had been quite prejudiced at the beginning of the previous year, perhaps they had to put up with 'house loyalty' comments of some type at home. She knew that Tracy did. From what she could tell the Flints and Notts did too, but those were pro-slytherin instead of anti-slytherin.

Oh well, we'll just have to make sure that Guinevere (or however she said it) knew that 'we don't hold how the rest of her family had been sorted against her.' As if the 'baby' had much control over the rest of the family. It's a good thing Blaise and Pansy recognised what was going on and got her to come sit down before things got any more awkward.

.

Finally it was over and they could collect their schedules and go to bed. Harriet glanced over the whole schedule, but only bothered to memorise the first day of classes before tucking it away. Then she went and greeted the first years. Just in case.

Three curtsied, two actually tried to shake her hand.

"Are you some kind of muggle-lover?" said Blaise at her elbow. He seemed to have prioritised things close enough to the same way that he arrived right behind her.

"What does that even mean?" said the first year in question.

So Blaise had a chance to stage bowing lessons, and since Harry was right there he let her teach the various curtsies. The firsties who didn't know better were impressed and seemed to think it would be a fun game to play regardless. Those who did know better, seemed very interested in mastering the subtle differences between the bows or curtsies they hadn't had occasion to practice before.

By the time lights out was called she'd picked up two thirds of their names and had the feeling that Blaise had learned all their names, and more about their personalities than she had.

She gave Blaise a knowing smirk as they turned toward the dorms. He returned it.

"That was a good idea," she said.

He shrugged.

"I bet you'd make a good prefect,"

He grinned then shrugged again, "Luckily I'm in the same year as Draco and don't have any chance at that level of distinction, or stress."

Oh, is that how that is likely to work. Had been likely to work? With Lord Malfoy dead, would Lady Malfoy take up the Malfoy seat on the board of governors or would it be vacant until Draco came of age, or were things handled in some other fashion? Did Draco even wish to be prefect?

If family money were the only issue, likely Blaise could compete. But if influence, and the ambition and skill to wield it were more important, perhaps Draco would be the better suited to the position, especially in Slytherin. And given that Blaise already deferred to Draco when the two were in the same conversation, (except when Draco was clearly wrong, which was getting to be less often). Blaise probably wouldn't even begin to work up an ambition for the prefectship unless Draco signalled that he wasn't interested, or unless someone like Professor Snape as much as told Blaise that Blaise would make a better candidate and ought to try.

Professor Snape, Draco's own godfather… That was _never _going to happen.

"I guess you're right," said Harry.

"Of course I am," he said loftily, then smirked to take the sting out of it, "you rose to the occasion rather well I thought."

"Thanks," she said. Comforting to be told that all one's study and practice had paid off.

"Good night, Harry" he said and made the turn that would take him to the boy's hallway out under the lake.

"Good night, Blaise," she said, and found that she missed Dee. A bit more consideration and she realised that it wasn't her brother Dee that she missed, it was the Dee who she'd danced and discussed ambitions with on Yule last year.

She missed her Godfather, and the fact that she would basically not see him again until he laid aside his responsibilities as Professor Snape next holidays.

There was a depressing thing to be looking forward to already. And it was monstrously illogical, after looking forward all summer to classes and seeing all her friends.

But Draco seemed to get by, and if she had to guess. She thought she'd seen her head of house make 'proud godfather' faces at him sometimes, not that he didn't make those sorts of faces about other slytherins when he thought no one was looking. Which might explain why she'd never seen him make such faces about her, he might have let Draco or Blaise see his approval of her, and he theirs, but not the reverse. What was the point of that?

_Oh, if all of us see the others gaining his approval, but rarely ourselves, it __… makes us try to work harder to get what we may already have. Keeps us competing for his respect, and only Draco and I have enough time with him outside of Hogwarts to even begin to suspect that we might have his regard at all. Very cunning indeed._

Though he had been helpful that one time, when she revealed her metamorphmagus capabilities last year.

**Interlude**

A vibration hissed through the darkness. Energy and magic burst into the void and began to warm it and the space around it. The blackness woke and shivered and slithered forward, searching for the source of the welcome warmth.

"This has got to be it," said a distant voice, "it looks just like the one on the statue."

And with no more warning than that, the darkness receded, the void filled with light and form.

An unusually large portion of the central void was filled with the suddenly present mind. And the mind felt its way outward as if blind.

_So she must be smart, but also not trained in the mind arts._

As she explored and expanded into the space she'd just entered, the darkness receded farther. The clump of blackness did not retreat from her. She stretched and luxuriated. _She must keep so much in her mind that she has the cramped feeling of a potbound mandrake._

She sucked in the air of the space, revelling in it's cold freshness. And exhaled more warmth and light that the blackness drank in greedily.

She stretched herself farther, limbs extending and extruding farther into the space around her.

She sucked in another breath and paused.

"Who else is in here?" she said.

The blackness shivered and did not answer. It remembered a time when it was not afraid. A time when it could have mastered this situation already.

But that was long ago, before the eternity alone. Eternity made longer because everything took so much less time to think here than it should.

She frowned and expanded again, but more consciously. She sniffed and extended more probing tentacles that gradually surrounded the blackness, hovering just outside reach, surrounding it by smell but not daring to touch. Spilling abundant warmth and magic around the blackness, and still sniffing.

The blackness drank in greedily and felt the ability to unfurl for the first time in decades. But he didn't touch either.

He'd prefer to have a lot more intelligence of the situation before he brought about contact.

.

She explored all the way around him, and outward in all the other directions. She found the cabinets and the scraps in them that the blackness had found too unpalatable in it's last mad hunger before it collapsed into hibernation all those decades ago.

She recognised that things could be left on the shelves, and that they wouldn't vanish away like everything else when the mind that made them left.

She began cleaning up the scraps, looking for anything edible, but there was nothing. She stuffed all the old scraps into one of the farther corners, (She must be either a conscientious type, or a hoarder of everything, even dry scraps of forgotten philosophies.

She brought out some of her things and placed them into the near cabinets, some with writhing bits of her tentacles still attached, still worrying at the puzzles she'd deposited for later. The blackness wondered if they'd blacken when she left, and keep him company.

But no, the other tenticles that were previously left behind had not blackened and shrivelled for a very long time.

The blackness itself hadn't shrivelled instantly. It had been a gradual process. It was only from the perspective of the far side of eternity that it seemed to have been completed in an instant.

The mind vanished with an uncomfortable scraping-popping sound. That must have been uncomfortable. If she got in the habit of using the hat she ought to get in the habit of pulling her tentacles in before she tried to fit down through the hole in the floor.

.

The light began to fade. And the darkness began to close in. But the space remained warm in spite of the still cold breeze. And the blackness continued to bask. Presently it would work up the nerve, or the courage, or merely the energy to go examine all the things the new neighbour had left behind. See if she'd taken the cabinets as an invitation to dump her junk or deposit her treasures.

If she was just dumping junk she should have left it on the floor, where things shattered as soon as the cold closed in, and the breeze would blow the shards away tinkling and dancing out beyond the sturdy floor and down into the winter sands of endless night.

...

**Luna**

Padma knew it was late even without checking the time. But that didn't matter she'd been learning about all the secret passages she could catch rumour of. And now she had yet another secret, a room as big as the great hall and full of stuff. She'd have to show it to Draco.

But later, right now she had to get back to her dorms without getting caught.

And the fastest way to do that would be the access ladder behind the tapestry of gnomes playing rounders. which led up two floors. Then down the hall to the passage with the two trick stairs that started and ended on the same level even though it was down two flights of stairs either direction. Which was either a fast way way to go because of banister sliding, or wasn't if you didn't … partake of that joy.

Parvati vowed that if she ever figured out how things like that worked, she'd expand her and Parvati's room in the trailer until it was cathedral sized and fill the extra walls with a tastefully decorated library. She'd always wanted to sleep in a library.

There was room in the Malfoy's library to put a bed. It wasn't the first thing she noticed about the library when she'd seen it. But it was the feature that stood out the most when she'd returned home to her own room.

Oh, and that was another dream feature to see about adding to her thinking cap, if she ever got around to making her own: A shelf or pocket she could stuff with books she wanted to read. And if at all possible she'd be able to read whatever was inside that pocket while walking or riding, or eating. Especially eating! Oh, and sleeping. Extra specially while sleeping!

.

She made it to the eagle and answered a trick question that might not quite count as a riddle, the answer was either 'time' or 'entropy' and since entropy was an non-intuitive concept built around a logarithm of a ratio that Padma thought was upside down in any case, and wizards were rarely into that sort of math, she guessed 'time'.

The eagle let her in, obviously. The common room was empty. There were mostly tests tomorrow and all the Ravens knew, (and some had experimentally verified) what Flitwick had taught them, sleep is important: If one must cram, the best result is obtained by cramming two days before the test and going to bed early the night before the test.

Actually Padma was surprised that there weren't many like her still up, those who didn't need to cram and were confident that they'd slept enough since the study session in question.

Or Padma had lost more track of time exploring than she thought she had, by an order of magnitude perhaps. All the more reason to go to bed _now_.

.

As she crossed the common room she heard a hiccup and a rustle so faint it might have been hair.

There was a first year huddled by the fire, practically _in _the fireplace. In the niche at the end where the wood was usually stacked, when it had gotten rain or snow on it and the elves were letting it dry before they put it on the fire.

There was no such stockpile of drying wood now. The rains might not start in earnest for several more weeks, and sometimes this early in the season even the clouds swirled around the Hogwarts grounds without crossing above or raining a drop.

The girl was still frozen, though she seemed to no longer be frozen by startlement and now was just looking at Padma with undisguised interest.

"Do I have soot on my face too?" said Padma, technically 'the dust of decades' was a more likely name for the contaminant than soot, but… a freudian slip or attempt at camaraderie probably.

"No," she said and relaxed out of her foetal ball, now Padma could see that she was wearing only a blouse and mismatched socks. And she had a long piece of string woven and trailing from her fingers. Perhaps she'd been playing cat's cradle with herself. But … What was with the missing bloomers, or whatever.

"No," she said again, "you have fewer schigglevicks than yesterday, did you meet your familiar?"

"Do I know you?" said Padma.

"I'm Luna," said Luna, "I know everyone, and no one knows me."

"That sounds depressing," said Padma.

Luna sniffed, "they try to make me play their games but no one tells me the rules, I have to figure them out as we go along, it's very intellectually stimulating."

"What kinds of games?" said Padma, she had a feeling she knew where this was going.

"They hide my things," said Luna.

"Hide or steal?" said Padma.

Luna frowned, "that's a bad word," said Luna.

"No," said Padma, "It's a bad activity, if you don't call reality what it is, you have a disadvantage at understanding it and getting it changed."

"But one shouldn't make accusations until one can prove them," said Luna, "otherwise you're just another muckracker."

Oh, that's what Padma had been told about Luna's family, her Dad was one of the few journalists in Magical Britain who wasn't a rumour monger. The other thing she'd heard was that he paid so little attention to Luna that she'd had a psychotic break of some sort.

Actually Padma wondered why more children in the wizarding world _didn__'t _have psychotic breaks of one sort or another, what with their parents able to bend reality to their wills.

"Are you completely out of bloomers and robes, or just out of clean ones?"

Luna shivered, "Out of clean ones, and out of robes completely."

So was she some sort of hyper clean-freak? or …

"Two smelled like bubotuber puss and the other three smelled …" Luna said then emitted tiny wimper then looked down, "smelled kind of too good … in a way that scared me."

That could be anything from amortentia to just just about any perfume that had been intended to mask the smell of the bubotuber puss.

"You didn't get anything on you, right?" said Padma, "I mean, you don't need me to find a prefect to get permission for you to go to the hospital wing."

Luna shook her head, "I smelled it right away, I know what it's for, Dad uses it in a cleaning potion for ink and oil and everything else that get in his press mechanism."

_Good to know?_ Padma nodded, _More like, useless trivia_. The things Ravenclaws had to tell you about where their knowledge derived from so that you'd know that you could trust them and memorise their knowledge as actual knowledge instead of rumour.

"I think the hospital wing is out of bounds for the duration of the game."

_Alright then_… "Come on, you can borrow a pair from me for tonight, and however long it takes tomorrow for the elves to clean your clothes."

Luna brightened, and squared her shoulders. It wasn't quite a smile, and after a second she frowned again.

_Surely she__'s not going to refuse._

"Are you sure?" said Luna, "they'll probably just take them tomorrow when I try to shower."

"Then you'll have to give them back to me right before then, they've never stolen anything from me, they probably won't think of starting for days after they figure out I'm helping you. And by then I expect Professor Flitwick will have gotten them to stop."

"Oh," said Luna, "but what about while I sleep?"

_Oh, Vishnu__'s shield!_

"Sleep in my room then," said Padma.

"But," said Luna obviously in surprise, not rejection.

"Come on," said Padma, "before you catch cold and have to visit Madam Pomfrey for that instead."

"Oh," said Luna and took a step forward before turning in the direction Padma had been headed before.

Padma led her to her room. All the dorm rooms had two or three beds. But there were three times as many rooms as pupils and Ravens generally preferred to have their own room. Padma sometimes wondered if Parvati would prefer to share with just her sister instead of four other Lions, but that couldn't be helped. And Parvati really was blossoming being around girls more like herself.

It was the work of a moment to find Luna something to wear and shrink it the right amount to make it fit. And several moments more to clear away some books and a cloak and a few parchments. And Luna was deposited in the extra bed and Padma could put away her new treasure. And put her own self to bed.

"Is that what it smells like?" said Luna.

"Is what, what, what smells like?" said Padma.

"Is the thing you're hiding … a really old thinking … thing, ish, thing?"

"I think," said Padma, "I haven't figured out what it is or how old it is yet,"

"Oh,"

"Also," said Padma, "I've been thinking about your game. I'm pretty sure that if you go to the hospital wing or the teachers _before _you need to, they win, but if you go to the hospital wing _because _you do need to, they _lose_."

"Oh," said Luna.

"Though I suppose, getting bubotuber pus on you counts as a loss no matter what the game is. And whether or not you go to the hospital wing or not."

"Hmph," said Luna.

**{End Chapter 2}**


	26. 2-3: Auditors invade, Neville observes

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I__'m open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry__'s second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Audit**

One Monday as breakfast was finishing up a pounding was heard, loud enough to carry over the din of pupils talking and moving in the direction of classes.

Stillness rippled outward and the pounding came again, not on the outside doors but on the doors to the portrait room. A voice called out clear and cold, "Open! Open by the authority of the Chairman of the Board of Governors."

"The hell?" said Pansy.

"Go Mum!" muttered Draco.

"Huh?" said everyone around him.

Professor MacGonagall stood up and motioned whoever was closest to open the door. Two women with birds on their hats swept out followed by three men, in dress robes, followed by many more in navy blue smocks. Professor MacGonagall, motioned for them to follow her and they all swept out of the great hall and up the grand staircase into the administration wing. Pupil's on the stair at the time reported the entire conversation consisted of the Deputy headmistress asking, "The records room, or the office first?" to which Augusta Longbottom replied, "Both, we brought enough hands."

...

"What the hell?" said someone.

"Was that Neville's Gran?" said someone else.

"Yes, it was,"

"And my uncle," said Tracy.

"And Smith's Dad,"

"What's going on?"

"Looks like an audit," said Tracy.

"What are they auditing?"

"Everything," said Draco, "but mainly finances, teacher salaries, and educational outcomes."

"Do they … Plan to be … gone by the time the Headmaster gets back from the Wizengamot?"

"That's the plan," said Draco, "His time turner is out for service."

"His what?"

"Several important ministry officials are issued time turners," explained Draco, "which permit travel back in time up to eight hours, though most are on tighter restrictions most are tuned to go back in one hour increments though half an hour used to be more popular. They are meant to be used for getting to multiple simultaneous meetings, not for stopping things that you already know happen. So the precaution ought to be unnecessary but it was taken anyway."

"Time travel is possible?" said Blaise, "I thought that was just stories."

"It's … barely possible," said Draco, "Magic is wonderful, but it isn't actually as powerful as some of the other things that make up the olam, regretting or celebrating something enough to force a prophecy to happen somewhere in the past is a path of much less resistance than moving something as big as a body or complex and fragile as a being."

"So no going back and meeting my Dad?" said Blaise.

"No," said Draco, "That reminds me, I wonder if Dad had one and whether they're letting Mum keep it."

"Your Dad was a spokesperson for large voting block," said Blaise, "But he wasn't exactly high ranking at the ministry,"

"I _know_," said Draco.

...

Rumours flew about the audit in progress. Many pupils took 'short cuts' that led past the teacher's lounge or the records rooms in order to overhear gossip or even sneak a glance at the audit in progress. Apparently all the records in the office were being copied, the originals were stacked into boxes and the boxes were shrunk and stacked into little trays that closed tightly enough to keep the lids on the other boxes. Meanwhile the copies were put back where the originals had come from. When they'd finished all the offices and all the records rooms, all the intruders left.

Meanwhile the Deputy Headmistress oversaw it all with prim and silent protest. What many found to be the most interesting thing, was that Professor MacGonagall _also_ made it to her class on time and taught with just a touch more asperity than she was generally known for and answered no question about the audit, except that those who were interested could write to the Board of Governors and request copies of the findings, which were expected to be available by the middle of November.

**Neville**

Parvati jerked to a stop, "Padma?" she said.

Neville managed to sidestep without crashing into the sudden obstacle and turned back to look at her, "What's up?" said Neville.

"I guess she found another unplotable closet in Ravenclaw," said Parvati and shrugged, "she's seems to be trying to find every last room and passage in Hogwarts. She's been at it since sorting night."

"Why?" said Neville, "I'm not convinced they don't appear and disappear at the whim of all the various portraits."

"Perhaps," said Parvati, "she seems to be looking for something specific. She was crowing weeks ago about finding something really good, but she hasn't stopped looking, so," Parvati shrugged, "I hope she finds it soon, wandering around all night dodging prefects can't be good for her grades."

"Ah," said Neville, "No, I wouldn't think so."

"It doesn't usually keep me up at night, but every once in a while she gets excited enough to wake me up,"

"Come on Parvati," called Lavender Brown from up ahead, "Surely you can find better than Longbottom,"

"Don't listen to them Neville," muttered Parvati, "I'm sure you'll be a prize catch long before they realise their mistake." And she hurried forward.

"Don't look so far ahead you trip over what's right in front of you," muttered Neville to her retreating back and hurried also, but made up his mind not to walk behind Parvati in the future.

.

Two days later he was glad of his resolution, and his consistent practice of it. Twice she stopped dead to say her sister's name and mutter speculations about her progress at finding a hidden corridor. Then only one corner away from the grand staircase, she stopped dead and listened, and a moment later took a step to the side and pressed her ear to the wall.

"What's up?" said one of Lavender's ravenclaw friends that Neville hadn't bothered to learn the name of.

"Someone talking in the wall," said Parvati, "muttering either curses or threats, in bad Sanskrit, there's something familiar about it."

"Familiar how?"

"Mr. Filch?" Parvati yelled at the wall, "Is that you?"

Everyone made faces at her back.

She pressed her ear to the wall again, and a moment later started rapping her knuckles along the wall horizontally and then vertically.

After several passes each direction, she straightened up and shrugged her robes back into place, "Oh well, it's gone now."

"What did it sound like," said Lavender.

"Someone talking or humming near enough some pipes that it was carrying through the walls," said Parvati, "There's no telling where those pipes run and where whoever that was, was talking."

"Actually," said Dean, "There's a stack of bathrooms right over there straight up and down on all the floors." He accompanied his statement with hand motions that didn't seem like they ought to mean much. But somehow they gave Neville an idea of several stalks of Siparunaceae growing together with their leaves flowing into each other to construct the water flow of each of fixture in a bathroom, but not just one bathroom, a double stack of them.

"Interesting point," said Neville when his vision cleared. He was fairly sure that was not how wizarding plumbing was _normally_ done, as easy as water was to conjure and vanish.

_But when had Hogwarts been plumbed? Perhaps there had been a different style in vogue at the time._

"Alright, but what did it sound like they said?" said Lavender.

Parvati said several words that no one could understand. Then she blushed and shivered, "Like I said," she muttered into the silent hall, "bad words and bad grammar, like a curse or a threat whispered mostly to oneself about one's enemies while no one is around to hear."

"What did you mean about the humming though," said Dean, "What you said didn't sound either like singing or like a tonal language."

"That was the weird thing," said Parvati, "It sounded like the speaker might talk a tonal language even though that wasn't the words they used, or maybe it's a different language and the tones cover the parts of the grammar that isn't part of the words I heard.

"I guess," said Parvati, "echoing through the pipes could have made it sound more resonant, and added more static too. Maybe I'll hear it again when we're downstairs and passing the other bathroom." She put her ear to the wall again. Then shrugged and headed for the stairs.

Parvati was so quiet over dinner as to be almost sullen. Her friends didn't seem to notice.

Neville figured she was worrying about her sister again, "Parvati, you need to eat."

Parvati finally looked up when he tapped her shoulder. He repeated himself. She nodded and ate mechanically.

He let it go at that. For now.

"Do you know," she said, "if magical cobras grow bigger than say fifteen feet long?"

"I don't know," said Neville, "shall we check the library after."

"Sure," she said.

...

In the library they found Hermione and Daphne sorting cards into the card catalogue. "Seen anything on magical cobras yet?" said Neville.

"On any big snakes actually," said Parvati.

Daphne pulled open an unmarked drawer looked at something in it, probably to make sure she'd pulled open the right one, given that it was unmarked. "Magical creatures," she announced, "enjoy."

"Thanks," said Parvati and Neville together, and started looking. Eventually they found three likely looking titles and copied them out and went looking for them. On the way they passed Padma flipping rapidly through a book and a blond headed girl staring at her in consternation with a roll of parchment and self inking quill at the ready.

"Hi Luna," said Parvati.

"Hello Padma's sister, hello gryffindor," said Luna, "I see that you're on air business too these days."

"What?" said Neville.

Parvati said nothing and just tugged Neville on, "Ignore her," she whispered once they were among the stacks, "she never says anything useful, or rather everything she says is useful but by the time she explains, it's taken more time than it's worth."

"If you say so," said Neville.

"I imagine she'd be mistaken for an oracle or something if this were Ancient Greece."

"Got it," said Neville, though he wondered if that might not translate into something like a real seer of some type.

"And now, snakes," she started pulling down books, looking for the titles they'd listed earlier. It only took three shelves for them to find the first two, they decided to read them first and go looking for the last later. Probably they wouldn't even need it.

"What are we looking for?" said Neville as they settled in.

"Just anything very very big," said Parvati, "and probably magical. Probably poisonous, but I'm just guessing that."

"What are we hoping to find," said Neville.

"Snake charming tunes and recommended pungi dimensions," said Parvati, "or baring that, at least recommended defence tactics."

"The voice in the wall?" said Neville.

"Yes," said Parvati, "I realised that the tones reminded me of something and when I tried to imagine the instrument to play them, I imagined a pungi bigger than I am."

"And pungi means … the oddly shaped pipes that snake charmers use."

"Yes," said Parvati, "they are classically made of gourds and cane but the best ones are made from nickle or silver. In one account, probably mythical, the best pungi ever was made from emerald or jade, the translation is difficult."

"Who is your father related to?" said Neville.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind," said Neville, "is snake charming a normal skill for witches in India?"

"I guess," said Parvati.

"Is being able to interpret what snakes say into words, a normal skill?"

"Not that I've heard one way or another," said Parvati, "Maybe our witches and wizards can hear snakes and compose music that they like. And anyone musically gifted enough can play it. Which doesn't preclude people and animals making friends in all the normal ways."

"I suppose," said Neville.

"Why do you ask?"

"It's not common in England, Salazar Slytherin and Saint Patrick were both reputed to have a way with snakes, other than that it's not spoken of much. Though Salazar's ability is reputed to sometimes pass down to his descendants."

Parvati put her book down and looked at him, "surely that alone isn't enough to get his house the snake motif that is everywhere."

Neville shrugged, "If it was weird enough, or habitual enough, I imagine enough people would notice it and form the association."

"Do you think he kept snakes?" said Parvati, "not like just one for a pet, but like… farmed or trained them?"

"That sounds familiar," said Neville, "Shall we look for books on Salazar?"

Parvati shrugged, "go ahead, pay attention to whether he had a favourite kind he farmed, or had a familiar, or if he just had a way with them when he met them in the wild."

"Alright," said Neville.

"I'm going to keep reading this," said Parvati and raised her book again.

_Well then_, thought Neville and wandered off.

"Odd request," said Neville when he got back to the catalogue, "What do we have on Salazar Slytherin?"

All action froze, and Neville was certain he could feel the stare of Padma and Luna on the back of his head. In front of him Daphne and Draco were looking intrigued and amused and irritated.

"What exactly do you want to know," said Hermione.

"I want actual facts on why the snake motif," said Neville, "I know that he is so famous for being a parslemouth that the association now goes the other way. But I was wondering more about particular instances in which snakes played a roll in his reputation such that—" Neville shrugged.

"He had one for a familiar," said Hermione, "or several over the course of his life."

"He reputedly hatched and sold basilisks," said Daphne, "I was never clear whether he sold them for guard pets or for potions ingredients. Implications from the text I read, which was _not _original was that he'd have done the same for other dangerous snakes but to a lesser extent, because the more dangerous a snake was for other people the more profit there was for him."

"Why do you want to know?" said Draco.

_Tread carefully_, Neville thought, "Parvati claims to be the Indian equivalent of a parselmouth, though she makes it out to be fairly common, and somewhat more related to music than to speech. When I told her that it was not a common trait around here, she wanted to know how the English version of the talent compared to hers."

Draco shrugged, "Chapter 3 or 4 of _Hogwarts, a History_, (depending on which version you have) will give a better overview than anything short of any of his biographies, though they are generally collections of hearsay published over two centuries later."

"Humph, She _said _she already read that," muttered Padma, and resumed flipping page after page.

...

Neville returned to report what the others had told him to Parvati. Draco appeared shortly after with two different editions of _Hogwarts, a History_. Parvati took them and put them on the table to read next, mentioning that she'd skipped the chapter on Salazar Slytherin before because she'd just read three books on modern blood purism and what was attributed to Slytherin was an ugly caricature of the modern version.

Draco agreed and suggested that Slytherin had wanted to avoid having muggleborns around for practical reasons that would later become the basis for the statute of secrecy, rather than the beliefs about wizard supremacy and the taint of creature blood that later opponents would later attribute to blood-purists but had more to do with the rhetoric of the Elvin Lords of the Hunt that had been cast down several centuries after, and had been aimed at wizards, and humankind in general, originally.

_Which made everything his Gran had ever tried to explain to him about his heritage make a tremendous amount more sense._

Draco wanted to know what Parvati had heard in the walls.

Parvati tried to explain. Suggesting that either the snake she'd heard was angry at the world about it's old age aches and pains and hoping to take it out on its prey, or it was merely the snake's normal hunting call.

"How old do you think it is?" said Draco.

"I have no idea," said Parvati, "I only have a general idea of its size, and a vague idea that its grammar is so bad because it has been solitary for much longer than is natural for it. I imagine anyone trying to talk to it will either get attacked instantly or give it a historic case of Stockholm syndrome. You know like _The Fisherman and the Djin_."

Draco wanted to know all about Stockholm syndrome, then said it sounded like the most straightforward concept he'd ever heard attributed to muggle psychology.

Parvati said to go away and let her study. Neville got the idea that he was included in the command so he ended up following Draco back to the catalogue and Daphne hinted so gently about how thankful they were for volunteers that Neville found himself helping turn notes into catalogue cards without even noticing how that had happened. But Draco, Daphne, Hermione, and Blaise worked efficiently near each other with so little argument or fuss. Neville felt a gentle camaraderie among them. Almost like when his specimen gathering led him to wandering between disinterested browsing ruminants. Except this quiet herd were his own species, and they were gathering information together, the same sort of information he might need in the future. Not ignorantly chomping up plants that might be rare or interesting, but he'd never know if they got there before he did.

...

"So, what's got into her," said Draco.

"I think she started out wanting to know what she heard," said Neville, "and now she and her sister might be under the impression that she's the only ones at Hogwarts who can deal with it, if it becomes a problem."

"Oh," said Draco, "that's possible. But surely Dumbledore or Flitwick can handle a big snake. The unforgivables are legal on animals. _If _it becomes a problem."

"She has a thing about killing things," said Neville, "she says no animal, not even the carnivores naturally wish to be killers. That most have to work themselves into a state where they can do the deed, hence hunting calls. Or that they have instincts that take over and only let go once the deed is done."

"I'm not sure what difference that makes," said Draco.

"She'll want to confront it herself and try to talk it down, before sending someone to bring someone capable of killing, or whatever." In a sudden flash of insight those four images linked into two. Humans were also carnivores at times, and yet, they rarely killed on a whim, most of them in fact would never think of killing without the correct circumstances to trigger and reinforce the behaviour, the invasion of one's home, the ceremony of a slaughterhouse, the pomp of being being tapped from auror duty to try for hit-wizard training. British wizards no longer even did their own executions, they let dementors do it. And there had been a time that they'd farmed out the job to the goblins.

"And she's taking this one on rather than leave it for a handy hufflepuff because she now believes she's her heritage gives her a significant advantage?"

Neville shrugged, "Gryffindor logic, and based on the fact she's certain it has a poisonous 'accent' or something. Did I mention she guessed cobra first."

"Cobras aren't naturally found in Europe," said Draco, "If it is, it's probably someone's escaped pet, and has been living in the forest but decided to winter inside Hogwarts this year."

"Does this imply a worse winter than average?"

Draco shrugged, "Could be. Never hurts to be prepared."

Neville nodded, he ought to write Gran's grounds keeper, just in case. "I'll talk to you later, I guess."

"Sure, later," said Draco.

On the way out he wondered about the bonnet / scarf that Padma was wearing. It didn't look like it was there for aesthetic reasons. And the last ravenclaw he'd seen with something indescribable on his head … had died of a heart attack while harassing a slytherin pupil, so the story went. Draco's cousin to be exact.

Then again, maybe it was just a ravenclaw thing, they just got caught up in projects sometimes and couldn't be bothered to wash their hair. Though he was fairly sure she hadn't been wearing it during classes earlier.

**{End Chapter 3}**


	27. 2-4: Memories, Darling and not so much

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don__'t own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I__'m open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called __'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape__'s respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry__'s second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Memories**

Severus breathed a sigh of relief as his last dentition of the week closed the door behind herself. There was something different about the texture of this year. Or the mood of the pupil body. He could tell already that this year would see less pupils causing unnecessary excitement. He didn't know why, nor how he could tell. But it was the second week of September and the first in much too long that didn't make significant inroads on his research time by requiring him to oversee two or three if not six or eight detentions.

He glanced at the clock and pulled out his notebook to see what he could accomplish in the time that remained before curfew and with it his nightly rounds.

A knock sounded from the general direction of the door.

He sighed, "come in."

Harriet Matirni entered and glanced around.

It was a glance he recognised, "Do we require privacy charms?" he said.

"I don't know," she said, "Draco said you're an expert in legilimency and other mind arts."

"I have significant knowledge," he said, "I'd be glad to offer advice. Though I don't have a formal mastery in the subject. Nor do I have the natural talent that Draco does."

She looked surprised.

"I, however, have considerably more experience than he does. What gives you reason to wish to consult with an 'expert in legilimency'?"

"I can see thestrals now," she said.

"If you're wanting a licensed obliviator, you can always contact the ministry."

"Can you see them?" she said.

"Yes," he said, "most of the adults who lived through the last war can."

She nodded, "do you have memories of them from before you could see them?"

"I assume so," he said, "they've been employed to pull the carriages to and from Hogsmead for a very long time."

She blinked and took several seconds to process that, "I think that answers my first question," she said and her eyebrows drew tightly together.

"And what question is that?" he said.

Her face relaxed for a breath before she started to explain, "When I got back from summer holidays I realised I could see them now."

Severus nodded and attempted an understanding look but he knew he should aim for something other than a smile, "anyone close to you?"

She shook her head and waved that away, "no, the oddness is that suddenly, it seems like I've always been able to see them, which Blaise and Draco both agreed wasn't normal. So I'm wondering if I'm going crazy, and Blaise is wondering if I tricked myself into pretending I couldn't see them. And Draco is wondering if someone has been editing my memories."

Several probing questions presented themselves, several statements intended to reassure the subject and help her relax also seemed appropriate. Also the fact that he didn't have anywhere comfortable for her to sit pressed on his mind.

"I don't know if you're crazy," he said, "but to whatever extent you might be, I'm fairly certain that it was done to you, and can probably be undone, if it isn't wearing off already."

"What?" she said.

He stood, and turned toward the door, "I said, it's not your fault, lets go someplace more comfortable to see what we can do."

"Oh," she said.

In the dimness of the corridor the corner of his eye caught a bit of motion and a tiny sniff. Before conscious thought he reached out and grabbed at the sound. His hand closed around hair.

"Ow, Merlin!" said Draco.

"Finite," said Draco and Severus in unison. Severus looked around, "Homenum Revelio,"

The spell did not bring his attention to anyone else. Severus sighed and glared at Draco.

"I … kind of … asked him to come," said Harriet, "at least to start with."

"Alright," said Severus, "Let's go to my office."

...

"Alright," said Severus, when they were all settled with hot chocolate, "there are several avenues that our investigation could take. To some extent we could investigate faster or jump straight to treatment if any treatment is necessary, if we could narrow down the problem, so we will start by establishing what the symptoms _are, _then we'll move on to investigating cause, and finally determining if the root cause needs repair before anything further should happen, or whether the root cause is more of an 'event' that has passed and nothing needs to be done about it, and we need only pick up the pieces, put them back together and move on.

Everyone nodded.

"Are there more symptoms you already know about?"

Harriet shook her head, "there might be, but I that I don't know are symptoms of anything."

"Fair enough," said Severus, "and if this has been going on for years… hmm. Have you noticed any of your other memories showing signs of being altered, or is it just in regards to thestrals?"

Harriet shrugged, "Seeing vs. Not seeing something is a lot more pronounced a change than other things, I'm not sure if I have memories of thinking about memories in a way that would lead to being _able _to notice changes normally."

"Fair enough," said Severus, "we'll just concentrate on thestrals then … What is the earliest death you remember witnessing?"

Harriet grimaced, "I don't know which was earliest, there were three … scenes that are from before I can … tell what order memories belong in. I remember watching a … well it was _probably _a wizard get shot in the back and then mobbed and dragged away by Circus Security. I guess I'm not certain he died, or if he merely got dragged away while limp."

"But to your child mind, you interpreted what you saw as death?" said Severus.

"Yes," said Harriet.

"Alright, go on."

"There was an acrobat who overshot the safety net during practice, I … I remember him landing right in front of me, and yet I'm certain I wasn't there at the time, so perhaps I stood near the body later and imagined the rest, probably from an overheard narration from someone who actually was present.."

"Understood," said Severus.

"And I remember," Harriet sighed and wiggled deeper into the cushions of her chair, "I remember the night Aunt Lily died."

Severus could feel the blood draining from his face and arms, "go on," he croaked. Then held his breath and tightened his chest muscles to counteract the fleeing blood.

"That's all until when I was eight, one of the roustabouts came back late and in bad shape and died a day or two later, the assumption was he got caught in a bar fight, though I remember thinking at the time he looked as bad off as one of the animal trainers after one of the baby elephants decided to test his strength."

...

"Alright," said Severus, "here's the shape of things as I see them. You saw death at an early enough age that you should have always been able to see thestrals."

She nodded.

"And yet, for some reason you remained both unaware of seeing death and unaware of seeing thestrals."

She nodded again.

"In all probability … no that is not how I wish to say that. One natural result would be not being able to think of anything else. A different natural result would be suppressing conscious thought of those things, perhaps you'd see them in nightmares, or perhaps you wouldn't see them at all."

She looked interested.

"The concept or connotation of 'seeing death' in some books implies not just natural sight, as in 'I saw a creature or a person die' but a friendship or familiarity with death, not the isolated event, but the concept. Neither do I mean the abstract concept of death, but the visceral knowledge that it is a real thing that really happens to real people."

"I think I see, what's your point?"

"Some people see many die, but can't see thestrals until someone they love dies. People in general aren't _real enough _for them to notice when one disappears, it must be a good friend or family member before presence of death is noticeable. Whereas others can see thestrals from the first time they see a fly succumb to a spider."

"Is there another option?" said Draco.

"How do you mean?" said Severus,

"People who have had friends die in their arms and yet still don't accept that death exists or that an 'olam' where such things could happen would be worth inhabiting."

Severus grimaced, "There are those who speak that way, but I've never met any who are unable to see thestrals and have had friends die in their presence, and who haven't killed themselves shortly after. I have met those who … have come to accept death even more than I have, and perhaps see thestrals more clearly than the average."

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of interpreting death as evil and refusing to accept the existence of anything so evil, they accept death as perhaps not 'good' but at least part of the natural order."

"Was Aunt Bellatrix one of those?" said Draco.

"No," said Severus, "or not that she ever confided to me, I believe she thought it the second or third greatest evil and therefore an excellent tool, to look at death and call it 'good' not as a means but as an end requires … a different sort of mind."

"Never mind," said Draco.

"Anyway," said Severus turning to Harriet, "do you still want me to come in and poke around looking for evidence of tampering?"

She shrugged.

"There are other possibilities, such as borrowing Dumbledore's pensive."

She frowned, "I don't know how to do the memory extraction thing,"

"It's not hard," said Draco.

"_You _learned it quickly and easily," said Severus, "just like Harriet learned to fly."

Both their eyes brightened, but also showed the thoughtfulness of realising that not _everything _had been as easy to learn.

"You may find it much easier to learn to divert your remembering process much easier after having me come in and pointing out the apparatus in question."

She nodded.

Severus closed his eyes and tried to remember the legally mandated protocol, as her godfather he could waive the bit about getting permission from her parents or magical guardian, but he still needed the subject's permission, "Harriet, I wish to enter your mind, first to look at your memories of thestrals, and your memories of memories of thestrals, to understand what you're talking about and to look for tampering. You may or may not notice my intrusion, if you do, I ask that you observe without fighting me. I am very good at this and should not run into any trouble. If I _do _run into trouble I will assume that you are fighting me and retreat in order not to do you harm by attempting to probe past your untrained defences, do you understand?"

"I _think_ so," she said.

"Is my plan acceptable to you?"

"Yes," she said.

"Are you ready?"

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Keep your eyes on mine."

She made to nod again and realised it might move her eyes off of his, "Alright," she said.

"Legilimense," he whispered, and folded his concentration into the correctly shaped package to reach through the bridge created by the charm. On the far side he unfolded and looked around, he could feel the presence of Harriet nearby but she hadn't noticed him yet. But there was a tenseness of anticipation in the air. She'd be looking around and trying to find him.

He moved forward, the worry was stronger, but with it … trust, not the standard sorts of trust: well, there was the trust toward an uncle or En Loco Parentus that he often felt from those among his slitherins who'd had the misfortune of needing a rescue and the fortune for it to happen when he could provide the rescue.

This was different, this was … the trust of slitherins who have dangerous secrets toward other slitherins who are known to keep dangerous secrets.

If she had to concentrate on _that _in order to let him near her memories, there was no telling what she knew. And no telling how far she'd let him probe.

He pressed on. He found a place that seemed optimal and offered up the sound and his meaning of the sound, "thestral,"

Memories fled towards him and hovered just outside his shape. He reached for them one at a time and let each play out.

Gradually he became aware that her attention was on him, and on his progress.

There was nothing wrong with these memories. Or at least they were all written by the same hand.

"Memories of memories of thestrals," he called.

The conversation earlier that night in the potions lab came forward, followed by the later conversation in his office. Of course, when asking for memories from right here, the first 'memories of' was extraneous because memories were the only thing to ask for.

"Memories of thestrals," he called. Nothing.

"Try, how do I see thestrals," suggested the thing that must be Harriet's focus.

Memories faded toward her and he reached out and pet them one at a time before understanding that she was sorting them and trying to hold out the best for him.

They were as she'd said, images and diagrams of how well she could see which parts of thestrals. These memories were written by a different hand. Or perhaps by the same hand, but in a different script.

And the script changed several more times.

Finally he asked to see what deaths she'd witnessed. She reached out and brushed away all the memories that responded to his summons. She reached for him also but he got he message and backed out.

...

Severus returned his focus to his physical eyes, to stare into the face a worried second-year-pupil version of himself, breathing hard. Then Harriet coughed and her face resumed it's normal structure. Then her hand brushed an imitation of his greasy locks behind an ear and they resumed her normal texture and length.

"Pardon me," Severus said, "I should have backed out so we could discuss further options before I continued the investigation."

She nodded.

"Are you alright?"

"I feel odd, What symptoms should I be looking for?"

"Headache is a common complaint."

"No," she said, "Head fatigue perhaps,"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I imagine I'd feel like this, after, hmm, a long charms practical that involved charms that required an emotional component."

"To clarify what charms do you know with an emotional component?"

"Several specialised shield charms, the patronus, three medical spells, and whatever I did to channel my cousin, though I think I saw him cast the patronus twice, and then I cast it once or twice, which might explain the feeling that time."

Severus nodded, "shall we put off further investigation until another evening?"

"We've dredged up those three memories twice tonight, I don't see that letting you examine them a third time is likely to cause additional nightmares or anything?"

"If you're sure," said Severus.

She nodded, then froze, "just … can we all agree that the contents of them is … odd enough that neither of you reveal them or any of our theories about what they might mean without consulting the other two of us,"

Severus looked at Draco.

"Do you want to be here for whatever discussion follows?"

"I've heard enough to mystify me," said Draco, "I'm definitely staying to hear explanations." He didn't look mystified, he looked triumphant.

"Fair enough," said Severus and turned back to Harriet, "yes, I agree, on my honour."

She looked at Draco, who drew his wand and said, "I swear on my magic not to reveal tonight's discoveries or discussions without permission from a quorum of those present." That was poorly thought out.

She looked back and forth between the two of them, "that's oddly less and more than I wanted from both of you."

Draco shrugged, "I wanted to say something about unanimous consent of those present and still competent, but I couldn't get it to sound formal in my head."

"It doesn't have to sound formal," said Severus, "It has to mean the promise you're making,"

Draco repeated himself and this time his magic flashed in confirmation. He looked at Severus.

Severus looked at Harriet, "are you ready?"

She chewed on her lip for several seconds before straightening in her chair and nodding, "come ahead."

"Legilimense," Severus whispered.

...

He made his way forward, knowing his way this time, and realising he was following a well worn pattern in the landscape. Perhaps someone else had been here before him, many times.

He found the three memories and several more involving the death of animals. All were hooded or tied into packages whose knots matched the signature of whoever didn't think Harriet should see thestrals.

He got the last memory open and saw a white streak light up the room previously dark room and Lily Evens' face, felt pain on his forehead, saw and heard the dark lord interrupt, try to convince Lily Evens to go and leave the child to him. He watched her try to argue for time to finish the rune ritual she was in the midst of, for the dark lord's own good. Saw the dark lord lose patience and pour out his disdain in green light.

Felt but did not see something large and benign and ambient turn vindictive and malignant and crash inward upon the erstwhile dark lord. And when his charred remains had settled to the floor, it, whatever it was, cleared and stretched, and called for help.

He tried to stay with the memory but it soon faded in vertigo and shock. So much for leaving one's child alive but bleeding from the head. Then the familiar smell of a large warm body bundling the child up and apparating away. Muttering about hiding someplace safe and returning when things quieted down.

"Lily," he croaked.

Memories sprang up and were brushed back, Anger.

His own memory of their last argument as friends.

A flood of memories pertaining to learning brewing from Grey Matirni and Petunia nee Evans.

A realisation.

He retreated and cast the impudent brat from his memory store and closed the connection.

Before him, a young Lily Evens with curly black Black hair, huddled and shuddered and clutched her head, above her right ear with one hand and above her left eye with another.

"I'm sorry!" she whimpered, "that's _not _what I was trying to do."

Severus clenched his teeth and resumed his seat.

"I don't know how that happened," she wailed.

He knew how she did that, and pouring his attention full of unrelated memories while she did her ransacking was a bit of finesse he still hadn't gotten Draco to manage.

She came to herself, first breathing then trembling then she stood and made a sizeable curtsy, ancient house in the wrong toward noble house, favours owed both ways, "again I say, I apologise, please pardon my mistake,"

"What have you learned?" he said.

"Only what Mum already told me, that you were friend to both of them, and that … even good friends can … argue like Ron and Pansy when their blood is up."

A blindly idealist redhead and a quick-tempered, sharp tongued cadet Prince indeed, damn her for seeing clearly.

"Yes, well," he said, _I half hoped you__'d say something about learning to retreat before you are discovered_.

"What have you learned?" she said.

_The rational statement would be something about forgiveness being an important part of friendship_, suggested some traitorous part of his mind. Instead he said, "I think we were close to something before the distraction started. May I come in again?"

She nodded, and assumed the same posture as before. Perhaps a bit more prim, with her hands folded in her lap a bit more self consciously.

"Legilimense," he whispered, paying a bit more attention to the path that led from his bridge to where her memories were easiest to summon.

She was there waiting for him.

He summoned the death of Lily again, but this time he didn't taste it but handed it to her, and brought her attention to the hood it was wrapped up in.

She petted it and examined it for several seconds before the environment around them was suddenly filled with thousands upon thousands of memories that were similarly hooded, or bound. With sweeping gestures she freed them and welcomed them into herself. The ambient emotions quickly became impossible to gauge as the storm of memories appearing and running home grew to flood proportions. He beat a hasty retreat, not all the way out, but beyond the border of the storm of memories appearing and streaming inward for their chance to be uncovered and welcomed home.

Gradually the torrent thinned and stopped.

"How are you now?"

"Astonished, and … not _surprised_." She … he? said.

"What have you learned?" asked Severus.

A memory appeared in what could have been her hand and hovered out toward him. He took a tentative step inside the place of memories and reached out to take it.

Harriet was in a tiny candlelit room looking out and down over a stage, which contained several children and a dog and a teenager. Several spotlights tracked candlesticks in a motion, to strengthen the illusion that the stage was also candlelit.

The cue came and Harriet's voice rang out, barely looking at the script in her hand, "Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her children's minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep, to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can't) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing _this _to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing _that _out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on."

The memory went on but Harriet's interest in showing it to him vanished, so he laid the rest aside.

"Is that all?" he said.

Several more memories huddled around her, but at his words she dismissed them and pushed at him, not harder than he could resist if he chose, but he didn't want her injuring herself and her ability to resist intrusion. If she had any to speak of, after whatever and whoever had been here before.

He retreated and let the connection close.

He blinked to get his eyes wet and working again after so long motionless. A child he could not recognise except by his posture sat between Draco and himself. On his head were seven runes, five were futhark, two were not in futhark or any related script he knew. Yet he knew the third from last one meant _might and blood and magic_.

The leftmost rune was purple where all the others were light pink and already fading again. The rightmost seemed to be draining them of colour, itself already almost invisible.

Draco noticed that he was alert again, "Dare I ask?" he said.

Severus sighed, "externally imposed crypt-amnesia. She'd already learned how to see through it, but it took my prompting for her to realise that she could permanently free herself of the constraint."

"Why didn't they just obliviate?"

"I _think_ it was perceived to be bad strategy, compared to keeping the dangerous knowledge on deposit for when she was old enough to use it to her advantage."

"Then it was done by an ally?"

"She implied it was done by her mother," said Severus.

"If you could exercise patience for several minutes," said the third of their number, "I've found two more collections of sealed memories and am checking labels for dates and supposed contents, I will be with you shortly."

Draco's eyes widened.

Severus munched on his lower lip, someone had been making _rather_ free with his goddaughter's mind. It did not bode well for his sanity or _their _continued safety, if he ever caught up with them.

A slight motion caught their eye and godfather and godson looked at their … patient. A sigh escaped her? Him? And the child started to relax bit by bit. Finally he slumped all the way back and _she _sat up with a smirk and opened her eyes, "well _that_ was a lot of interesting trivia." The flash of eyes and the smirk were those of a cheeky little brat who had pretended to fight the headmaster to a standstill. Or who had succeeded at keeping the headmaster from doing any magic on him. But the face was her normal one.

"So who was poking around and locking up memories?" said Draco.

"Mum, Dad, and Heir Potter," she said, and giggled, "which is to say, myself."

Draco nodded, his look of triumph barely masking … dread.

"I wondered about that," said Severus, "though perhaps, not as thoroughly as Draco here,"

She turned to him blinked and leaped up and dragged Draco from his chair. It seemed that Draco's dread couldn't react fast enough to the unexpected action and he found himself pulled into a violent embrace, "Now we're cousins for _real_!" she crowed.

"Ah!" said Draco and clutched her like he was clutching at his last chance for a pardon. What _did_ Draco have to dread from the Potter brat, other than his wand levitating to the ceiling if it ever crossed Potter again.

Severus waited for the emotions on Draco's face to run full circuit before he cleared his throat, "I think," he intoned, "that we perhaps should put off the rest of the hufflepuffishness until after we've spent a bit of time on strategy."

Draco's face cleared to an expression that looked much more natural on it. Harriet let go and turned, her mannerisms half way between her normal studious self and the coldly calculating intensity that Severus had first seen on the face with only one scar, now that he'd seen the rest of the diagram he saw sowilo made with intention rather than an accidental lightning bolt that was more commonly referred to.

"What do you suggest, sir,"

"First of all, make sure that we are all on the same page. What do you mean when you say that you are Heir Potter?"

"I'm _not _100% positive weather I was born to Mum and Dad or to Aunt Lily and Uncle James. I _am absolutely sure _that I am the one that Aunt Lily and Uncle James called Harry James Potter."

That was a little more ambiguous than he'd prefer to deal with but…

"Also that when I am male I have the attention of … something I will call the Potter family magic and when I'm female I have the allegiance of the Evans family magic. Da's magic pays attention to me regardless, but answers to Dietrich ahead of me, and Da and Uncle Royce and Granada ahead of him."

That ought to calculate into something telling, but Draco or his f— … but Draco would probably be able to track down what it meant faster than Severus could. Severus knew that as a child he had seemed to have an innate talent for certain charms, as he grew older his skill increased with practice, but lately the talent seemed to fade with every Parkinson born. So much for being a cadet branch of the line.

But there was other magic that he had excelled at for no obvious reason, and his grasp of the subjects in question had improved significantly when his father had died. He hated to think he inherited anything from his father, but it did lend credence to school of thought about squibs that Petunia's new family and associates subscribed to.

"Do you intend," said Draco, "to take control of the Potter seat on the Wizengamot?"

She closed her eyes, "I think I need to study a bit more first, and I think it would depend somewhat on who is voting it now."

"I believe that Dumbledore and Frank Longbottom have applied for the right and neither have been granted it," said Draco, "Frank Longbottom probably would have won if Dumbledore hadn't contested it. As it is, Augusta is permitted to vote the Longbottom seat but none of the others that her son has a right to."

"Hmm," said Harriet.

"Father's right to vote the Black seat in Lord Black's absence, was similarly contested by Dumbledore,"

"What right does Dumbledore have to the Potter and Black seats?"

"The four of of them tended to vote in a block on certain issues," said Draco, "and often would issue letters of authority to each other to vote in each other's absence. But none of them were in effect at the time, or rather the Potter seat was assigned to Frank Longbottom specifically and until James Potter died or again attended in person."

"I _need _to know these things," said Harriet and sighed, "I thought Harry was studying them while I was studying to turn into his retainer or something."

"An understandable error, under the circumstances," said Severus.

"What do each of you suggest?" said Harriet.

"Get emancipated and gain control of your seat," said Draco, "Figure out who already votes the way you would, and ask them to sit proxy for you until the date of your seventeenth birthday or your graduation, or whenever you expect to wish to take up control for yourself. Draw up a letter of authority with that specific end date on it, (to remove the temptation to have you done away with or declared incompetent in the mean time) and go back to studying whatever you believe is the best use of your time."

"Hmm," growled Harriet, she glanced at Severus.

"I'd say the same," said Severus, "except that you could, with cooperation of a competent attorney and your parents, find and convince someone to file for the right to be your magical guardian. Then have them petition the Wizengamot to assign your seat as you see fit. It has the benefits of being a cheaper process than the route Draco suggested, but it is a process of petitioning people in authority over you to do what they should, rather than a statement of what rights and responsibilities you've taken up and then immediately give away again."

"How much money is involved?" said Harriet.

"Less than two thousand galleons," said Draco, "not counting the solicitor, which you ought to retain in either case."

"Not enough to worry about," Harriet frowned, "what else is different."

"In the case of a failure, my way leaves you in a more powerful position all along the way," said Draco, "except the case where the very first step fails."

"So I need to consult with a solicitor in either case," said Harriet, "what else ought I take into consideration."

"Occlumency lessons," said Severus, "I didn't check to see if your protections are worn down, but they could be. Probably are after all that intrusion by your parents and perhaps by any magic that they left in place. There _were _wear marks. And if you don't want them do similar things again, or actual enemies to do worse…"

"Alright," said Harriet, "I agree to the necessity." She took out a bit of parchment and began taking notes. After a while she looked up, "do we want to get into what occlumency lessons entails, or just the fact that they are needed, and revisit the details later?"

Severus glanced at Draco, "Draco can find you the books you need to study first before we start. I can try to teach you, mostly by coming in and pointing things out that you need to change, a licensed instructor can probably do more and faster. But again you get what you pay for."

Draco nodded.

"Are there other overarching strategic goals that we ought to discuss _tonight_?"

"Umm," said Draco, "Only the most glaring, are you going to stay Matirni for the time being, in public I mean, or start being Lord Potter as well?"

"Umm," said Harriet, "how many people know about my channelling episode last year anyway?"

"Not as many as one might expect," said Severus, "Everyone in the know has either protected your privacy or has kept it a secret to keep you from being put under pressure other than their own in order to influence Potter."

"Convenient that," said Harriet, "I take it that protection disappears when I take up Potter's role in _exerting _influence rather than absorbing it."

"Perhaps," said Severus, "you might be surprised how little some people notice, with a little help to look the wrong way."

"What do you suggest?" said Harriet.

"So far as misdirection is concerned?" said Severus, "What misdirection do you need? Around here everyone who cares already know you represent him in business and what little politics he's allowed to participate in at his age."

"Quite," said Harriet.

"If you were third years," said Severus, "he and Draco could be seen meeting and visiting in Hogsmead. As it is you could contact your parents' solicitors or have Lord Malfoy contact his own or Lord Black's, or make another recommendation for that matter. You might be surprised how much business can be conducted by mail. Perhaps the requisite paperwork could be ready and in place by Christmas Holidays. You could meet and get as much of it taken care of then as possible and meet again in early summer to stop by the ministry for whatever hearing is needed."

Draco opened his mouth in protest.

"It's possible that something could be arranged to get you out of classes instead, but that depends on how desperately you're trying to hide these activities from the Headmaster."

"Why are you assuming he cares and that I need to hide from him?"

"He currently has magical guardianship status for Harry Potter."

"Since when?"

"Since shortly after he filed for it on November first 1982. And Lord Malfoy didn't try to appeal until it became clear that Lord Black was not doing so."

"But Lord Black was in prison."

"Lord Black was and is being held incommunicado, at that point he was merely thought missing. Before the reports started coming out about what he was supposedly up to when he was brought in."

"OK, but the incommunicado part doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't make sense for a common criminal," said Severus, "It is common for another type of prisoner."

"Huh?" said Harriet.

"Think about it," said Severus.

"A political prisoner?" said Harriet.

"That's what it looks like,"

"Oh, Merlin," said Draco, "and that explains how over the top the story was, if it's propaganda so no one tries to get him released."

"Or even tries to get him a trial," said Severus, "though to be fair, he generally tried for over the top, I've come to believe he was compensating for something."

"No trial?" said Harriet, "that's definitely a breach of common law."

"Quite,"

"Bloody HM—," said Harriet, "this is like some little third world dictatorship without the dictator."

He might should talk to her about that, clearing her throat instead of cursing might be a good technique for avoiding her mother's wrath, (step mother's wrath?) a worthy goal in itself, but it was too identifying a practice to be reflexively indulged in by a metamorphmagus, if said metamorphmagus wished to make full use of the talent later in life.

After a moment she continued, "whatever happened to 'magicals must hold themselves to the standards of angels because their government alone will not be able to hold them back'?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, it was nice to know she'd read and tried to absorb more than a little of the philosophy in that little book, not just the bestiary and the historical plays. "No king, no matter how powerful, can hold back the tide," he said, "Even the muggles have taught this, but it does not follow that anyone is willing for their own blood to be first drop in the tide that changes things."

Harriet was quiet for quite some time, "Alright," said Harriet at last, "so to gain control of myself I need to think like a lawyer, but to avoid other people trying to block me, and to figure out who might try to block me, I'm going to have to start thinking like a state."

"Is that shorthand for something?" said Draco.

"Sort of," said Harriet, "it was in a book Mum made me read when I complained that the first world war didn't make any sense."

"Which war?" said Draco.

"The war of preening empires with insufficient armour," provided Severus helpfully.

"Oh," said Draco, "so what is it code for?"

Harriet shook her head as if to clear it, "State leaders have a job description of protecting their people and their people's way of life, and/or improving it," said Harriet, "but they often spend more of their time protecting their own access to power."

"Well of course," said Draco.

"Never mind," said Harriet, "The point is, who's power-base do I threaten by taking my seat in the Wizengamot, and who has power worth worrying about with regards to stopping me? And do I have anything that they want? Conversely have I taken the necessary precautions to protect myself from whatever level of force they might be willing to bring against me."

"Dad and Dumbledore _were _the big voters, but Dad isn't here, and some of the seats he had the power to vote reverted when he died, Mum hasn't yet established herself as a leader, even if she still has power to vote the most number of seats after Dumbledore. Then Abbot, though it would be Frank Longbottom, if he were still competent."

Harriet nodded, "so any time a dormant seat becomes active it carries the risk of diluting the vote of any block, until the holder becomes a known quantity."

"Exactly," said Draco.

"As the sitting Lord Potter," said Harriet, "would my vote be at all helpful towards tipping the vote in favour of letting your Mum vote the Black seat?"

Draco smirked, "I like the way you think. I'm not sure, we'd have to ask her."

Harriet bit her lip, "Fair enough, I guess it is all rather academic, until I get emancipation squared away."

"Quite," said Severus, Though it was not, but if she was dropping large swaths of strategy that easily it wouldn't do to invest time getting her more entrenched in favour of the only path she could comprehend at the moment. Instead he suggested, "shall we adjourn in favour of bed?"

"In fact," said Draco, "I think we can plan on adjourning until Mum replies to my query regarding what's known about the Potter's solicitors or recommendations regarding getting new ones."

It was unanimously agreed and the children left in the direction of the common room. Severus took several minutes to put his desk in order and then stood and made his way to fulfil his evening responsibilities.

**{End Chapter 4}**


	28. 2-5: After-meeting & Hallows eve

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Aftermeeting**

On the way back to the common room Harriet pulled Draco aside in to wider expanse of hall, what would be a lounge on third floor or a display on first or second, but in the dungeon corridor wasn't anything except a place to stand out of the flow of traffic. "What was that?"

"What was which?"

"That look you gave me right at the end."

"I was thinking you'd be a fool not to consult with Longbottom or Abbot, regarding figuring out exactly which solicitors had worked for the Potters."

"Or all three?" said Harriet, "fine, or are you just trying to get out of doing the homework of writing your Mum for me?"

Draco snorted, "just … don't tell them why Potter wants to know, just that he's in the mood and wants to ask for advice, but mostly information about the status of the Potter estates."

"Yeah, I know," said Harriet.

"Do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told me easily enough."

"But neither of them are cousins."

"Actually they probably both are, though not as closely related."

"Oh,"

"Not closely enough that you should consider them allies without double checking the Potter family records for favours and oaths outstanding each direction, and talking to the people in question until you trust your assessment of their character and views with regard to the action you're hoping to persuade them to take on your behalf."

"Well, yes."

"Was there something else?"

"I had the feeling that you were distracted with something else for the middle third or so of the conversation."

"What?"

"Ok, less than a _third,_ but—"

"Oh," he said and stood up straighter, "When Heir of Potter gave me that hug, what was it intended to signify?"

Harriet took a half step back, then smirked, "What are the choices you're working from, that you have to ask?"

"Other than my Mum, and a few times from my aunt, and once on the train, the only hugs I've received or given or were to the children of a peasant who used to watch me when I was small. Forced apologies and the like. And come to think of it, most that I received from my aunt were also given in place of apologies, which were NOT stated out loud, making them that much more awkward."

"Umm," said Harriet. _That's kind of sad. _"So you're trying to determine if there was an apology or pardon I meant but wouldn't speak aloud in front of Professor Snape?"

"That's what it felt like," said Draco, "though I wondered, given the hug you gave me earlier on the train last year, you hug for more things than apologies and pardons, or more specifically to display the emotional portion of your core for squibs to examine for authenticity."

"They can do that?"

"I'm fairly sure that peasant woman could and did, and would extend my punishment if I wasn't sincere, or worse if I had even the least bit mischievousness brewing."

"You, Draco Malfoy the heir of House Malfoy: mischievous?"

"You doubt my powers?" said Draco.

"No," said Harriet, "Or … I don't doubt that you used to have a mischievous streak as wide as the Thames."

Draco blinked, "Which part of the Thames?"

"I was thinking of Teddington, though I guess it's still called the Thames in London."

Draco snorted, "all the way to the sea, but never mind."

Harriet shrugged.

"I'd say something about still having a mischievous streak that is wider even than that but that it flows under the surface at this point, but I think that would get us off topic."

"Quite."

"So, what did you mean by the hug?"

"If anyone else had asked, and hadn't explained what they meant in such abstract language, I think I'd just say, 'why do I need to mean anything by it?' and be annoyed at them," said Harriet, "but when you did ask, I realised I _had _meant something by it, and was a little annoyed to find that you hadn't understood, and a little annoyed that I couldn't already put it into words. So … please forgive me if it takes three passes or something to explain what I meant by it."

Draco sighed hugely through his nose, when Harriet didn't start explaining right away, he said, "Alright, I agree to attempt to reserve judgement until I understand."

She nodded, "First of all," said Harriet, "I'm used to giving and getting hugs from all my cousins and several of my aunts and uncles. I'm used to offering them as a signal that hmm the relationship, that friendship continues and is still desired in spite of recent negative events, or even precisely because we can recognise that negative events have destabilised someone's emotional balance or self perception and we wish them to understand that they are still valued by others, which hopefully frees them to reevaluate more clearly … whatever they may need to evaluate in light of the recent event."

"Alright," said Draco, "hugs can mean, … imposed respect?"

Harriet giggled, "Imposed _value_, either respect or affection, probably both."

Draco nodded.

"Above and beyond that," said Harriet, "I'm not certain you understand that Harry has had a chance to exist _twice _since his second birthday, and you were here both times. It was to some extent loneliness, recognition, and greeting."

Draco drew in another breath.

"I guess Professor Snape was also here both times, but as professor and head of house, not as Uncle Severus who he seems only to be during holidays."

"Are you saying that Heir Potter has … Stockholm syndrome for _me_?" said Draco.

"Yes, exactly," said Harriet taking a step closer, then pausing, "Though calling it that may have done quite a bit to cure it."

Draco raised an eyebrow while compressing his lips.

"What's wrong?" said Harriet.

"Nothing," said Draco and looked away.

"I don't know what that was," said Harriet, "But it was _not _nothing. Are you disappointed that you're not going to be able to take advantage of him?"

"Not that," said Draco.

Harriet kept looking at him, realising that he'd shifted only slightly but it had turned from despondence to defensiveness.

Draco sighed, "I think perhaps I might have been feeling the same for him."

"What?"

"Stockholm syndrome," said Draco, "Dad's dead, Mum's been giving me hugs as she wants them not as I want them. I didn't even realise I _could_ want them until Potter gave me that one. That might have been the _most annoyed _at Professor Snape I've _ever _been, (and he could get extremely irritating trying to correct the inexact language patterns mother used to let me use regarding potions.)"

"Oh," said Harriet.

"I probably have been even _more _annoyed," said Draco, "if he had told us to 'stop' instead of what he did say, about 'putting off all this hufflepuffishness until later'."

"Agreed," said Harriet.

Draco sighed, "Lets go to bed."

"Sure," said Harriet, "are you sure you're done talking?"

"I'm sure I'm _not_ done talking," said Draco, "and equally sure that I don't have the words for the rest of it."

"Alright," said Harriet, "then I have one thing more to say."

"Go ahead."

"Stockholm syndrome is about _inappropriate_ feelings of affection, I'm fairly certain that Potter's feelings of affection are toward you are appropriate, under the circumstances that they are for a cousin, who isn't an enemy, as calculated by how much you've done for him, especially given that you did a certain portion of those favours to his poor muggleborn cousin with less than a clear idea of ever getting them repaid."

Draco sniffed, "Alright, there's something to that, but…"

"But what?"

"Ok, so Heir Potter wants to be friends, and maybe even allies with me?"

"As far as we can be without taking politics or networking or other adult responsibilities into account," said Harriet, "And maybe even after taking those into account, I mean hopefully, but I don't know."

"Right," said Draco, "what I'm getting at is, I'm allowed to have friends, I'm not certain about the hugging."

"Oh," said Harriet, "but you said…"

"I said I liked it, at least in the privacy of Professor Snape's office, or on the bloody train with no one watching but Tonks."

"Tonks and Sally-Ann."

"Granted," agreed Draco, "but would Mum think it was appropriate, would … would Padma or _her _Mum think it was appropriate."

"Oh," said Harriet, "alright if you haven't figured this out, … maybe you haven't been paying attention, or maybe you never had a good reason to pay attention before."

"Go on," said Draco.

"Girls hug, boys either hug or don't depending on whether their families think it's ok, if they think it's not appropriate they tend to wrestle instead, or pretend to."

"Oh _Merlin_," said Draco, "Is _that _what's going on?"

"Some actually fight," said Harriet, "which I think is a different form of evaluation and request to be evaluated."

Draco nodded, "that figures. Though it doesn't seem to answer the question, what is appropriate between us."

"In the summer," said Harriet, "If Heir Potter takes Mr. Crabbe up on the offer of defence lessons, I imagine we could do all the wrestling we want. Perhaps actually gain _real_ skill at it."

"Agreed," said Draco.

"In the meanwhile," said Harriet, "I have no idea, I'm tempted to recommend asking Padma."

"Oh, obviously," said Draco.

"Maybe," said Harriet, "Or maybe I'm not thinking clearly at this time of night."

Draco flicked his wand and examined the result, "It is rapidly approaching the no-policy-decisions time of night."

Harriet grunted.

"What?" said Draco.

Harriet fake cleared her throat, and stage whispered, "No magic in the corridor."

Draco pursed his lips at her and put his wand away.

Harriet yawned.

Draco seconded, so they adjourned.

...

The next day they met in the library as usual. But before Harriet resumed her studies she composed long letter home. Draco offered to read it over and make sure that nothing had been said that she shouldn't mention to her parents quite yet, especially in light of the fact that she suspected them of engineering the crypt-amnesia to start with, but she kept what she'd already written, though she did voice concern over whether Dumbledore might find some way of reading what she wrote.

Draco suggested that if that was her concern, it was always possible to find an empty room, put up privacy wards, and then read her letter to her parents through the her magic mirror. She agreed to consider that possibility.

Meanwhile, since Draco had written his letter the night before, he began by sneaking into his favourite area of stacks in the restricted section, and brought back two books which he presented to her with an apologetic expression. "This one is an easier book to learn from," he said, "but if you leave it shelved here in the defence stacks where you have an excuse to come across it and read it, it's much more likely to be noticed as out of place. If you study from this one, I expect you could just leave it shelved wrong between study sessions, and it will here long enough for you to finish."

"So what do you recommend?"

"Read whichever you wish, or both of them, starting with the general introduction to mind magic and move on to the defensive mind magic book later, if either of them get put back on their proper shelf before you finish I can show you where to find them, if they get removed from the library to keep them away from you, you can borrow them from me during the summer. That's another thing you need to remember to ask your parents about."

"I wonder," said Harriet, "whether it would be easier to ask them for permission for, or tell them."

Draco shivered, "you mean, after 'your sponsor's' emancipation?"

Harriet smirked, "exactly,"

"How are you planning on arranging to get to all the meetings that will be required to get emancipated, without help from your parents and/or your magical guardian?"

"Oh, dear," said Harriet.

"Hmm," said Draco, "It seems to me that you're going to have to either let them in on the plot, or convince them to let Mum or Professor Snape to be responsible for you and take you all over creation at a moment's notice. And by all over creation we really mean: the ministry of magic, Gringotts London, wherever your solicitors do business, and Malfoy Manor or wherever Mr. Crabbe is doing tutoring."

"I'd expect it would be easier to convince Mum to pass me off to Uncle Snape than to Padma's boyfriend's Mum, even if your mum is my cousin once removed."

Draco nodded along with that explanation.

"Unfortunately, I have the feeling that Professor Snape stays fairly busy, even in the summer."

"I'm not sure how much of it is busyness and how much of it is that he's an introvert," said Draco, "he before last summer he used to stop by to see Dad for an hour or so most weeks."

"Oh," said Harriet, "I hadn't figured that out about him, but I can see it now that you mention it," she frowned, "the poor man,"

Draco shrugged, "there are trade-offs and there are trade-offs, what power do you want to wield, and what are you willing to put up with to gain and keep it?"

Harriet nodded, "alright," she smirked and her gaze turned inward. "So when I find a solicitor, I need to find out what responsibilities I will have as soon as I am Potter of Potter and emancipated, and I need to make sure whoever I still am as Harriet Matirni does not conflict with that, and I need to decide how thoroughly I am going to invest in keeping my mask available."

"I didn't even think about that," said Draco, "Do your two personas have different magical guardians?"

"I don't know," said Harriet, "what are those exactly? Your dad kept asking about that when we filled out the metamorphmagus registration last year."

"As a muggleborn you sort of have to have one, because without parents in the wizarding world you sort of count as an orphan. Under normal circumstances, it should be a competent magical adult in your sponsor's family. As an orphan, Potter's should be one or both of his godparents,"

"Both are not available,"

Draco winced, "we need to find out who the ministry has on record for each of you. I have a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore would have registered himself as Potter's magical guardian, probably placed Potter with your family specifically so that there would be no wizards readily available to take on the roll."

"Hmm?"

"Since Potter isn't of age yet to be your 'sponsor' his nearest competent adult relative should be first in line to be your sponsor, actually the same would be true of Heir Potter if there had been no godparents on file or if there had been a proper paper trail of where he ended up."

"Who would that be, and what do you mean by 'proper paper trail'?"

"It would be Mum or Aunt Andi, Tonks mum," said Draco, "hmm about the paper trail, when Potter's parents' wills were read when or if either or both godparents were not competent the nearest of kin to each of them ought to have been notified and, if they hadn't taken up guardianship they should have made suggestions and worked with other survivors among those present or otherwise interested, to name better replacements."

"I guess I see what you mean," said Harriet, "are we sure that didn't happen, but that no one has bothered to mention it to me?"

"How can a competent magical guardian neglect to mention it to you?"

Harriet shrugged, "there have been lots of adults connected to the circus and otherwise who have taken me aside, or… well not aside exactly but given me a sober and meaningful look and told me in no uncertain terms that if I need anything from them, I need only ask. What are the chances that someone who was not aware that the circus was a squib school, and who was aware that I was only a small child and not yet interested in the legalities of my situation, might tell me that and nothing more?"

"Hmm," said Draco, "fair enough. But they'd still need to check up on you now and then. Anyway, what it all boils down to is that we should ask your solicitor to check, or get Mum to check if she's in the ministry anyway."

"If she doesn't have to go too far out of her way, and if her checking in person wouldn't raise too many eyebrows," sad Harriet.

"Ah," said Draco, "good point, getting information from which to plan has a bad reputation for tipping your hand much too soon,"

"Yeah," said Harriet, "Unless … she could go ahead and apply for it the same day if no one is registered already. You did say that she would have been first in line if things had progressed normally?"

"Yes, but …" said Draco, "actually Aunt Andromeda would have been first in line, being the oldest sister."

"Oh," said Harriet, "I don't know her as well, though … I think I wouldn't have minded having Tonks for an older sister if things had turned out differently,"

Draco smirked, imagining how much trouble two metamorphmagi could have gotten into growing up, or rather avoided getting into, and then imagining how Harriet might have developed with one sister in hufflepuff instead of tens of cousins and step cousins. No doubt that she wouldn't hug as often, though perhaps not by much. Draco suppressed the urge to get up and give her a hug, partly because he wanted one, and partly to see how she would respond. But he was disillusioned right now and that could make things weird.

"I suppose I ought to clear it with Mum first," said Harriet.

"Hmm," said Draco, "would she want you and Harry to have a different guardian?"

"I think she wants Snape to be mine, and he hasn't agreed, yet. Or something. I don't know if she'd want Heir Potter's to be different."

"Ah," he said, "why wouldn't …"

He frowned and shivered, "Things might get excessively sticky whenever your mask finally fails," said Draco, "I imagine that you'd want to either make sure you get your magical Guardianship fixed first, then Potter's, then his emancipation then get him to sign a warrant of agency so that you really can act on his behalf all the time regardless of which face you're wearing."

"Hmm, alright."

She wrote that down, then sighed, _this is enough to keep me busy explaining to Mum and Da the rest of the evening_. She started rolling up the parchment that held her letter home, and now some other notes as well.

"There's one other thing," said Draco.

"What?"

"A lot of the mudbloods who manage to come to school here, have the headmaster for a magical guardian, not because they or their families want him for that, but because if they don't have one, it's assigned to the principle agent, or provost, or headmaster or whatever, of whichever school they choose to enrol in. You should be prepared for the possibility that he already is the Guardian of both you and Potter, and that he may fight if you choose to change that about either of you. Or should he find out that you are going to try to get Potter emancipated. But that might just be overblown suspiciousness after Professor's revelations about the singularities of Lord Black's case last night."

"Oh, dear," said Harriet. And after a moment reached out and clutched his hand, "If he does, do you think Uncle Snape and your Mum will help fight him off?"

"I can't speak for either of them," said Draco, "but … Mum is less than impressed with Dumbledore at the moment. Also if he can be tossed out as headmaster it will be no contest getting your guardianship assigned to who you wish. Especially if the new headmaster sees letting you have your way as a good method for gaining additional political capitol with the Malfoy vote on the board."

"Ah," smirked Harriet and seemed to notice her effrontery of holding the back of his hand, almost his wrist. Of course, given that he was disillusioned, she couldn't very well have guessed where to find him anywhere else, only where his hand rested on the book he was reading.

"Sorry," she said and pulled her hand back. He caught it with his other hand and patted it once before pulling his hand back as well. Re-assurance, but not unduly prolonged contact.

She went back to packing up her things and placing the two books he'd brought in an unobtrusive position in the defence stacks.

"I guess I'll go find my mirror and see what Mum thinks of all this."

"Do you want me present?" said Draco, "or to review privacy charms before you have to get into it with her?"

She gave him a bit of a glare, probably about the implication that she'd need to 'get into it' with her mother, but she nodded so he packed up his things as well.

...

She'd already known most of the charms he could manage, and knew of a few of the rest. Once they were satisfied that she could cast everything he would if he remained, she asked him to give her privacy. So he gave her a quick hug and went on his way.

She didn't seem the least surprised or resistant to being hugged. He really needed to make sure Padma didn't mind. He also needed to find out if Harriet minded if he let Padma in on the whole … no, Harriet was learning occlumency precisely so that no one would find out before it was time.

**Hallows eve**

Draco didn't get a chance to ask Padma for several weeks. For one thing she seemed to skip a lot of meals and once in a while it seemed like she was skipping classes too. Finally he saw her at the feast on the evening of Calan Gaeaf. When she left early, he left also. He tried to follow her but she seemed to be running in the dark and putting out torches on the way. He used the four points charm to track her up to second floor where he found even more torches doused. He made it as far as the blind corner before the bathrooms where he slipped in a puddle and hit his head.

…

When he was found written on the wall above him were the words:

.  
"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE."

…

To everyone's surprise Hermione managed to derail Professor Binns next lecture, and instead he gave an untidy explanation of what 'The Chamber of Secrets' was supposed to be, and whether there was a monster inside it, and whether said monster would come out and eat muggleborns.

As they exited History of Magic, Daphne ordered everyone who wanted to know more or especially everyone who _knew_ more to come to the second year tutoring room. When everyone got there Daphne pulled out the _oldest_ edition of 'Hogwarts a History' anyone present had ever seen.

"Professor Binns correctly alluded to the fact that there is a connection between Salazar and his fear and hatred of muggles," lectured Daphne, "but the connection between those two things is often confused with his rhetoric regarding whether muggleborn should be allowed to attend Hogwarts."

Then she proceeded to read the section Salazar's falling out with Godric. It detailed Salazar's fear that muggles would attack as they had at previous magic schools where Salazar had studied and worked. And his anger at the others for not helping him prepare wards and other defences.

In the end Hogwarts did have extensive wards, and a budget line _built into the charter_ to save up for ward upgrades every fifteen to thirty years. In fact it was one of the few institutions that spent as much on wards as it did. And since they were generally designed to be cumulative and layered, and that they'd been a work in progress for at least 800 years. It was estimated that Hogwarts might be the most impenetrable fortress in wizarding Britain, and if not, only Gringotts' London would compare, of course Gringotts' Beijing was widely believed to be the most impenetrablely warded, publicly visible building on the planet.

(What no one discussed was that given the current state of the art ward schemas, anywhere _more_ impenetrable than either of them, was likely to now include the fidalias charm and so would be impossible for most people to remember or put on lists.)

In the end most of the wards were defences against attacking wizards and magical accidents in general, _not _against muggles.

Then she flipped to the section on the chamber of secrets and read the passage where Salazar expected someday the muggles would come, and the rulers of Hogwarts would send an emissary to his descendants and beg them to return to Hogwarts and conjure his monster from the secret chamber where it would sleep until its assistance was required.

And the monster would come fourth and drive back all who stood opposed, and Hogwarts and its pupils would be safe. And the wizards would—

Daphne closed her mouth with a click and shut the book with a thump.

"Go on, finish it."

"And the monster would go back under the castle to sleep. And Shytherin's heir would be welcomed back in Slytherin's place."

"What? Why?"

"He was feeling victimised and driven out, so of course he ranted about how everyone would change their minds eventually," said Daphne, "and how his heir would get to say 'I told you so.' That doesn't mean I'm going to read the whole thing out loud. It gets kind of repetitive and cliched in places."

"So the chamber is under the school?"

"Either the chamber is under the school, or the monster's natural instinct to look for a den will guide it there," said Daphne, "it's not clear, but it does seem to me that it's a hint he accidentally left while ranting. Does anyone else have intelligence they wish to share."

"Are basilisks in the cobra family?"

"Yes," said someone, "But Draco and Mrs. Norris are _petrified_, not killed, so whatever happened to them isn't a basilisk."

Which led to speculation that the monster might be a gorgon. Or that whoever was writing on the walls hadn't been messing with Salazar's Chamber of Secrets, but was just showing off a new spell they'd learned, and thought that alluding to Salazar and his monster were humorous or would serve as a useful misdirection. Mr. Filch and Professor Lockhart had already hinted as much, but it wasn't clear what they knew, or thought they knew.

"Is being parselmouth the only logical interpretation of what 'Slytherin's heirs' would be able to do to help manage a monster?"

That started a lot of talking but very little of it was reasoned.

Finally Hermione had had enough and set off a loud fireworks charm very similar to Dumbledore's cannon blast charm. "Does anyone know anything that applies directly to either the question of Draco, and the method by which he can be un-petrified faster than waiting months for Professor Sprout's mandrakes. Or to the question of finding the chamber, or of figuring out why it would have been opened and the monster brought out to petrify a pureblood who was hardly anyone's enemy, though several people's rival."

Neville stood up, "Parvati heard a monster."

Parvati sighed and came to the front, "I heard a _very_ big snake, I believe I heard its hunting call, the noise was coming from the walls near the bathrooms on a different floor from where Draco was found. I don't know how close it actually was, sound can travel a long ways through water pipes. Everything else I can say about that is guesses, but I'll tell them if everyone wants."

Everyone wanted.

"I'm not a parselmouth at least not by the description of everything I could find on what that is. I might be the South Asian version. Anyway, I know enough about snake charming to know that I _don't _want to start without a professional tutor showing me how. And I know that the snake I heard sounded more like cobra than a constrictor, except very very big, and that I don't know enough about the different calls of poisonous snakes to really guess beyond that. I also know that my guesses are based on echos through a water pipe so… I'd rather listen from closer before you trust what I'm saying, and I don't want to have a good reason to be close enough to hear better."

Some muttering of various shades.

"And I'm a _Gryffindor_!" she said and shrugged, "but I _have _mailed my grandfather for books on snake charming, just in case. And a letter to Dumbledore because I didn't want to wait until I got a chance to talk to him in person, because he's been gone so much dealing with the audit."

"Any questions?" said Parvati.

There were several but the one that caught everyone's attention was, "What does Padma say?"

"She's been looking for the chamber since about the the third week of school this year," said Parvati, "so far she's mostly found secret passageways, some of which are useless for getting to class in a hurry. For instance one is a _really _long staircase _down _from first floor to third floor that actually travels eight minutes forward or back in time to make sure it takes the same amount of time to slide down the banister to third as it takes to climb up the steps to first."

"What if you us a broom to fly up the steps."

Parvati blinked, "I don't think you could fly up it, and then to the main stair case, and up those to the third floor, so that you could fly up the time stairs and get even farther back in time. I mean, you could make the circuit but I don't think the effect would be cumulative in a useful way, I mean you'd add eight minutes to your day each time but you'd waste them getting back to where you started."

"But you could use sliding down the banister as a good way to kill time on slow Saturdays?"

"Definitely," said Parvati, "it's a _very _comfortable banister with a gentle curve at the bottom to slow down on."

"Awesome,"

"Back to the topic at hand," said Parvati, "no, I don't think she knows where the chamber of secrets is, or she'd probably be here instead of still out there looking."

"What happened third week to make her start looking for it?"

"I don't know," said Parvati, "she's been looking for _something _since the first day of school, the middle of second week she thought she'd found it. But now she's out looking again and she won't tell me what she's looking for, just that I'll be impressed if she does find it. So I'm guessing it's the chamber because I can't think of anything else she'd expect me to be impressed by except a hidden library."

The consensus if it could be called that, was that a library is what Rowena Ravenclaw would have put in a hidden chamber if she'd made one. Conversely that calling it a 'Chamber of Secrets' was a bit of exaggeration in advertising if it _didn't _contain a library.

**{End Chapter 5}**


	29. 2-6: Investigations

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Neville**

Gran and Lady Malfoy visited again, mostly to yell very quietly and politely at MacGonagall and Dumbledore.

Ron in an attempt to commiserate, said some things about having parents or guardians that yell. Most everyone else said that they didn't mind Snape nearly so much after hearing Neville's Gran. A few pointed out that Draco's Mum had a good reason to be yelling at Dumbledore, and that she _wasn't_ yelling, just threatening, quietly.

Neville just wished his Gran wouldn't make him notorious in front of the whole school.

The best thing about the visit was that before they left Draco was sitting up and begging for a hangover potion _or anything _for his head.

.

That distracted most of his peers such that no one seemed to notice when Gran took Neville aside.

"Alright, Neville, what's _really_ going on around here?"

So Neville explained all the things he'd been too frightened to put in his last letter, and complained that the audit was taking up so much of the time of the headmaster and the deputy headmistress that they didn't have time to do anything about whoever had pranked Draco.

"Petrification is hardly pranking," said Gran.

Neville shrugged, "he's going to be alright isn't he?"

"Yes, quite," said Gran, "but the cure was not cheap, and there are the classes he's missed."

"I know," sighed Neville, "He and Hermione might be the best able (outside of Ravenclaw) to miss classes."

"That's hardly the point," said Gran, "though I'm glad to be informed that the school needn't go out of it's way to help him make up time."

"Yes," said Neville, "I can see the argument that he deserves that help, but I don't see how it's the school's fault."

Gran sniffed, "perhaps you'll understand when you're older,"

Neville shrugged, "what else did you need to know to finish getting rid of Dumbledore."

"The main goal is not, 'getting rid of Dumbledore' the main goal is bringing Hogwarts up to it's historical standards of excellence, if that means getting rid of Dumbledore, then so be it, though I don't see why it must."

Neville drew himself up to his full height, "Dumbledore may be a competent administrator but he hires bad teachers, Professor Snape should _not _teach children below the NEWT level, perhaps he shouldn't teach at all. Professor Binns regularly forgets which week of his lesson plan he's on, everyone ignores him, some of them read the assigned books and some don't. I've heard awful things about Professor Trelawni but I have not personally observed anything, and don't get me started on our defence professor this year."

Gran stared at him, and sniffed, "Professor Snape and Professor MacGonagall are the only professors with mastery in their fields."

"That makes them knowledgeable," said Neville, "It does not make them _teachers_."

"What do you suggest?"

"Keep them to teach NEWT pupils," said Neville, "Keep Sprout and Flitwick to teach OWL pupils. Hire more teachers to fill the other time slots. MacGonnagall doesn't have _time _to be a proper head of house and the Deputy Headmistress too."

"Ahh," said Gran, "We'll take _that_ under advisement."

"Good," said Neville and relaxed.

"Anything else?"

"This chamber of secrets thing," said Neville, "has the school ever petitioned any of Slytherin's heirs to come and use his monster to control a nearby muggle problem?"

"Not that I've heard about, why?" said Gran.

"The language of his prediction was weird," said Neville, "I wasn't sure if it was a prophecy or just written a long time ago in ancient English."

"I might be surprised if he uttered it in English, both Scotland and Britain have changed language a time or two in the last millennium."

"Multiple translations since then would account for it," said Neville, "alright, never mind."

"Do you think that this madness is really Slytherin's _chamber of secrets_ being opened, and not just poorly planned pranks or the defence professor trying to drum up excitement for his subject?"

"Like the troll last year?" said Neville, "I don't think our current Professor is capable of believing that his presence alone is not enough of an advertisement. Though perhaps … "

"What troll? … never mind we'll discuss it later, go on."

"After all his adventure stories, perhaps it would take slytherin's monster to top his adventures so far… do you think that he's just setting the scene for something he already has planned and scripted out to publish, with no monster at all?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," said Gran, "The other thought that had crossed my mind is that there are rumours through history of wizards who go where they will but adventure always catches up to them. If Lockhart is one of them, we should get him away from the school as soon as possible."

"Before or after he finishes off the monster his presence has woken?"

Gran snorted, "First we should take him away for questioning and see if the monster goes back to sleep."

"The monster has only appeared … or rather the messages and petrified things have only appeared twice, I'm not certain how quickly you'd know that the trick had worked."

"Fair enough," said Gran, "Anything else."

Neville knew that frown, it meant that he almost certainly didn't know anything that would interest her in her current state of mind. Even the troll, he didn't know enough about to interest her.

"No," he said, "Love you, thanks for coming,"

"Of course," she said and went away.

Neville went to the second year tutoring room to sit and think.

**Luna**

Luna felt the tickling by her ear that meant the clock at home should be ribbitt'ing the hour but wasn't, or rather it was but she was too far away to hear it.

She attempted to cast the time telling charm three times because 'practice would help' but it hadn't yet. She got up anyway and put her books away. Padma would be just finishing classes now and they would meet in the library. And Padma would read books very fast with the help of Ravenclaw's Diadem and Luna would read Padma because Padma was easy to read. Especially with both halves of her in one place.

And Luna would take notes for both of them and for the catalogue. It was faster that way than both of them working separately.

...

Padma wasn't in the library. Which meant perhaps she was somewhere else. Or perhaps she wasn't anywhere at the moment.

Luna contemplated where a mail owl would look for her. She tried the bathroom. No one. She tried second floor bathroom, Because Luna had the feeling that Padma might be harder to find if the tenor of her mood smelled too much like Myrtle, like a disguise or camouflage.

Padma was absent there also, unfortunately Myrtle wasn't. She recognised Luna from the times she'd hid there from the bullies her first three weeks. She wanted to talk so Luna talked, until she remembered that the ravenclaw news that Myrtle _wanted _to talk about was the same sort of news that the ravenclaw _bullies _liked to talk about.

Then she said she had to go, because she was looking for Padma.

Then Myrtle told her Padma had just left, which was good, because Padma was mean, sometimes ignoring her and sometimes yelling and asking questions.

"What sort of questions?" asked Luna.

"She wanted to know what she'd been doing the last time, when she'd ignored me."

"What had she been doing?"

"Going down stairs."

"Oh," said Luna "is that where she is now?"

"No she's outside by the lake. Which is good," said Myrtle, "because it's a good place to cry, and it's awful," said myrtle bursting into tears, "because I want to go there and I can't because _she's _there, and _she's _the one who made me cry."

"Oh, alright," said Luna, "I'll go find her."

"But I don't want you to go."

"But if I make her stop crying and come inside she won't be by the lake and you can go there to cry, if you want."

"Oh," sniffed Myrtle, "but don't you want to to stay here so I won't cry?"

"I already tried that," said Luna, "and now you're crying more, maybe I should try to give her a turn."

"Oh," sobbed Myrtle, "Yes, I suppose."

...

**{End Chapter 6}**

Short update this time, sorry. The next chapter is so huge it gets an update of it's own.


	30. 2-7: A conversation with Potter

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**A conversation with Potter**

Narcissa saw next the next item in her appointment book and sighed. When she'd agreed to the board's request to take over the position of headmistress she'd thought she'd been agreeing to a lot of administration duties and a side bonus of child therapy to keep her sane, and speed her recovery from the loss of her husband and (usually) equal partner in politicking her way to prominence and influence over the wizarding world and through that, the empire, and the world of all mankind.

People thought that the Malfoys and several of the old purebloods lines of Great Britain were cut off from the 'muggle' world, but that was just not so, they might be a bit on the patriotic side, or tribal side, regarding what they thought of the culture that sheltered them, but to believe that they weren't aware of the international scene was to do a large disservice not just to their intelligence and knowledge, but to the alertness of their altruism, and to a similar extent their cravings for power.

The Malfoy name was not an _old _name in Great Britain, and it was only marginally older in France, but they'd learned fast and learned from the best available at the time, and rapidly made (so far lasting) alliances with even better, and Narcissa's place in the family was proof of that fact. On the surface it might look as though a minor miscalculation had been made re-forging the ties between Malfoy and Black, in the sense that the house of Black _looked _to be in decline, with the only male heir by the name currently a political prisoner.

But the House of Black very proudly figured their existence by line not by name. Yes, the eldest male line held superior rights toward ruling the family, but the Blacks had been breeding _for _magical power and _for _political perceptiveness and _for _intelligence in general and (when nothing else would differentiate candidates) for duelling reflexes or family loyalty. Where other houses had married for status or money or love. There was no doubt that the last three might be good evidence of the former existing at some time in the past, but treating them as causal instead of as symptoms was just not on.

As if to prove the point it had taken a mere half-hour chance conversation, by the youngest heir even, to bring home to the vaunted boy-who-lived the value of claiming his ties to the House of Black.

Heir Potter of Potter, there were so many things wrong with the way he'd been treated, it was not clear how many of them had been perpetrated by the 'light' side and how many had been perpetrated by the child's squib relatives either to keep him under control, or to keep paparazzi (or worse) from the wizarding world from finding him to pay homage or worse, or if a few of the least repeated rumours were to be believed, to make sure he/she had access to _all _the family magic, not just the Potter magic.

If there were any truth in what her son passed to her about the child's talent for the defensive mind arts, and flying instincts, and well _other_ defensive arts, then the child would be a prodigy anywhere outside the House of Black. There seemed to be a distinct lack in the area of offensive arts, but that was probably a lack of will or interest, not a lack of talent. But that often skipped generations, and Dorea Black wasn't the most known for an interest in the dark arts, otherwise she probably wouldn't have snared Charlus Potter, a conservatively libertarian land manager and so magically powerful (also rich and titled) that he could never convince himself that most of the witches he came across were interested him personaly and not his status or his genes.

When approached with an offer by an old maid of the ancient house that had once sponsored the Potter line, it was fairly evident to both of them that Black of Black would support the alliance if only to make sure the Potter line didn't end. But mostly they expected to be a comfort to each other in their late middle age, it might not be love, but they were both talented and Dorea was a proven quantity and had experience managing many of the various ventures owned and run by the Black Families.

Many of those ventures were now run by others, and several had been farmed out to law firms (like Ted Tonks' for example) and various investment houses that could bring the proper expertise to bear, but they were still mostly owned by the Greater Black Trusts.

.

Fifteen or so years before, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black threw in her lot with the then rising star of Magical Great Britain (in an obvious-at-the-time bid for additional power for her family).

If anyone had asked her then, she would regretfully assume that Potter and his heir would be her enemies for the foreseeable future. But that was just it, the future was often not as foreseeable as it might at first appear. And here was the Scion of the House of Potter awaiting audience, with an oh-so-predictable offer to 'help regain control over the Black seat' in the Wizengamot in exchange for help getting emancipated and in control over her … his own hereditary seat.

...

"Enter," she said. The girl did. "Have a seat,"

The girl moved to her desk, curtsied and turned to pick out a chair. And paused, after no more than a second and a half she drew her wand and tapped the most offensively austere of the chairs available, (solid wood to keep meetings moving faster and with simple enough lines to appear cheap which could imply that school prioritised its money toward more important things than chairs) The transfiguration was rapid and impressive, the chair didn't alter much in size, in fact it might have shrunk a bit, but when it was finished, it had emerald and silver inlay and sported not one but two cushions and a writing desk arm complete with divots for quills and ink well.

The child seated himself, now male, bearing a very Potter face, but her— his hair had lengthened by several inches and curled. And the pucker of an understated scar near her— his right temple caught at and the attention and drew it, the only blemish in a face that otherwise reminded her achingly of … Sirius when he was a second year, (and already a scoundrel).

Narcissa looked him over again, clutching at every detail that proved it wasn't Sirius sitting across from her, the scar wasn't helping as much as it should, Sirius could have picked up something like that anywhere, no… eyes, a bold emerald green, matching the accents of the chair, the face had Black in it but it was Dorea and Potter sort of Black, not Orion and Walburga.

Fine.

"My dear boy," said Narcissa, and instantly regretted it.

The boy didn't seem to mind.

"My son and my potions master have told me all sorts of things about you,"

His eyes flashed, not amused, he valued his privacy, "All good I hope," but he knew the forms.

"Most of it," she agreed, "the rest uniformly impressive, when interpreted in what I hope is the correct light."

He raised an eyebrow. Raised by friends of Severus indeed.

"Where shall we start, Potter?"

He sighed, "I am just barely aware how valuable I am as a pawn, and I resent being owned by the school rather than by my family. Yes, I am aware of enough history to realise just how dangerous it can be to leave a minor's estates in the management of a near relative, when the near relative … has designs to usurp, but I'm fairly sure my parents would not be interested in the power involved, in fact I believe that they would only step in out of a sense of duty, and I don't intend to place that burden upon them. I presume that my late parents already arranged things so that the various bits of the estate would be in the care of competent administrators and that they could be safely left that way until I am ready to take up the reigns, though of course a deliberate and well planned 'showing of the flag' could induce a few of the more lazy types to keep things prioritised well.

"I see what you mean," said Narcissa, "unfortunately whatever testaments your parents … your late parents left were never read. It—"

"What!" said Potter.

"I was about to say, it was just one of a number of abnormalities regarding your case and those of a number of other people who have nothing in common but a connection to House Black."

Potter sucked in a breath, "you mean … Sirius? Who else?"

"What do you know about Sirius?"

Potter began ticking off on his fingers, "disowned by his mother, friend of the Late Lord Potter, fought against the Late Dark Lord, imprisoned without a trial, according to rumours, should have been my godfather, according to other rumours we were forbidden to meet without the supervision of one or both my parents until such times as I accept an apprenticeship, according to Draco the crimes he was caught red-handed and arrested for don't total up to anything reasonable, or at least don't total with the available evidence, add that to the lack of a trial and it totals up to a strong implication that he is primarily a political prisoner not a criminal one."

"Hmm," said Narcissa.

"You have a different interpretation?"

"In your pupil records it says you've had access to a significant portion of the defence related stacks of the restricted section."

"I suppose,"

"How would you get those results in that amount of time with a wand and three hours to prepare before the confrontation started? Remember he was found under an anti-apparition jinx and an anti-portkey jinx was still powering up."

Potter froze then rubbed his scar thoughtfully and hunched, "bring along a knife, and a portkey? Or if Pegrew had an escape portkey. They said the finger was cut and not an apparition accident?"

"Yes,"

"I don't see it, there should have been spell residue in Sirius' wand from the blast and…"

"What if you assume one or both fought with two wands."

Potter blinked, "then it's easy, they're circling each other, either one could have cast the blasting hex, there might in fact have been more than one, either one could have had the knife and that sliced Petigrew's finger, were either of them known to known to fight with blood magic?"

"Both certainly could have known enough to be dangerous, whether either of them might try to use it in the heat of battle is not clear to me, how long they talked as friends before they started duelling is also not clear to me."

"Ah," said Potter, "so either one could have brought the knife as a backup weapon. Either one might have been weilding it to draw petigrew's blood when interfered with at a critical juncture by the other, blasting hexes flying. Petigrew manages to get Sirius' primary wand and escapes by portkey just before he's trapped, or conversely is sent through by Sirius to a safe house or a cell, leaving nothing but a blown up street and Sirius to take the fall for the duel even though the only wand he'd gotten a chance to use was missing."

"Very good," said Narcissa, "we can make an auror of you yet. Do you believe it?"

Potter frowned, "adding multiple wands, and realising that the portkey ward wasn't all the way up adds too many variables, I'd need to start adding more constraints before I could narrow the possibilities down to the point I'd be willing to bet on any of them, did anyone double check the bodies of the supposed muggles for signs of, I don't know, polyjuice or other forms of disguise."

"Hmm," said Narcissa, "One presumes so, but I don't know. Perhaps you'd make a criminal defence lawyer… I have a new set of variables for you to take into consideration."

"Listening,"

"This is not at all intended to be a play on words, The House of Black has long had a reputation with more than a passing acquaintance with the dark arts."

"Is it justified?"

Narcissa smiled, "No one would answer that without hints from you that you are looking for an apprenticeship and are trying to find a master that can guide you in a direction you wish to go. I will say this however, the reputation is almost certainly not deserved in Sirius case, he was disowned at age sixteen, _well before _he'd have been eligible for a formal apprenticeship but even so, he was notoriously abrasive in his rejection of the old ways."

"You say 'old ways' in this context as if it were a euphemism for 'dark arts'?"

"For both his mother's strong beliefs in the blood purity doctrines and for the traditional, passing of proprietary magical knowledge by family lines rather than the Novu-French philosophy that all known and established techniques ought to be gathered and curated into a national encyclopedia for the edification of the masses."

Potter's eyes widened, "that's … surprisingly close to … I don't know … science."

"It is, isn't it." Narcissa smirked, "there is a reason why the scientific revolution was helped along by the French Revolution and vice versa. Unsurprisingly the Davies and Parkinson lines have imported a lot of knowledge from the continent, even if their names and original connections were here from the start. There is no question that the sharing of techniques can quickly produce great wealth. Several of the more recent dramatic increases of wealth here in Britain were engineered through arranged marriages that allowed access to entailed magical knowledge to be merged into _very _successful family partnerships. Of course, about as many were engineered by bringing in someone with business sense to look over what was already known and plan how to capitalise on it."

Potter nodded, "but you're saying that the French style would try to put all the knowledge out there where anyone smart and willing could look at it, realise it's potential, borrow a bit of capitol and distribute the benefit to everyone, even if they were a mere muggleborn."

"Quite,"

"I fail to see how that is _not _a benefit to society as a whole."

He was quick, "Let me remind you of one thing," said Narcissa, "the French killed or banished their aristocracy, their 'old families,' before they combined and began to curate the knowledge what was left."

"You're saying that our old families would fight such a reformation and perhaps would be smart to do so?"

"Not just that," said Narcissa, "It's not just that they might lose proprietary ownership of their accumulated knowledge,"

"You're saying … I don't get it."

"Reputation for dark arts," said Narcissa, "the _older _a family is, the longer it's had to accumulate stores of knowledge and more chances to trade with other families through alliances, some knowledge is horded because it it valuable, and some knowledge…"

"Because it is dangerous?" said Potter.

"Exactly," said Narcissa, "everyone can find information on the unforgivables, but there are other techniques, not all of them charms or curses, some are rune arrays, some of them are potions, some of them are rituals. They aren't dark _because _they are secret, as so many uneducated like to suggest the moment they lay hands on the family libraries, they are secret because an entire family line has judged them dangerous or disturbing enough to never publicise them. The French system works by curating all knowledge and making it available to everyone and letting the gendarmes stop and question any citizen for any reason, hopefully before they accumulate the resources to do anything truly horrific. It was lucky to come into existence in a vacuum of dark arts. The English system is based on an assumption that everyone must be trusted to never reveal that which should never be revealed, because the results would be disastrous for everyone not just oneself, and that most can be trusted not to use that which no one should use, because several other families who may not know how it was accomplished, but will know the rumours or reputations of _who_ would be able to accomplish something like that, and will be able to accomplish similarly powerful results in retribution, should the need arise."

"So," said Potter, "by the time your family is a part of the aristocracy, you hopefully can be trusted with everything that comes with it. Rather than everyone can be trusted because no one will try anything because the everyone knows the gendarmes have the right to search everything."

Narcissa shrugged, "I've given you most of the pieces, I'm not certain you've put them all together yet, it may take several weeks. The last piece is this, from time to time, families do cross the line and are raided and their libraries and collections are confiscated, the Department of Mysteries has the responsibility curating those artefacts and that knowledge, some of it becomes public record, some of it goes into the deep vaults. The mission is to create a similar encyclopedia as the French system, except ours will have two editions, the public edition, and the Department of Mysteries only edition. So if you prefer the French system, rest assured we are moving progressively in that direction, but I am content that it should be a gradual process."

"Huh," said Potter, "That is good to know,"

"And so far the Department of Mysteries _seems _to be fulfilling their mandate, and not using their knowledge for secret control of … anything they shouldn't,"

"Alright," said Potter, "and when they are in effect the last and biggest entity to hold a position like that which the 'old families' you were talking about used to hold?"

"There will still be similar departments in other countries. At the end of Grindelwald's war we absorbed that of Germany who had absorbed that of Poland. Austria and Hungary were not merged on the magical side, but they have a different system anyway. Russia and Switzerland have similar departments, but Switzerland's is run _by_ the old families who were forced to contribute several centuries ago, Russia … has too much history for me to go into, now. Let me simplify by saying they got rid of their non-magical aristocracy and told their magicals they could govern themselves as long as they never interfered with the muggles, needless to say, although they are not bound by the International Statue of Secrecy they live under a much stricter law. And last of course is Gringotts, we don't know how they curate their knowledge, but we do know they use blood magic for all kinds of things and where we have water based and oil based potions, they appear to have techniques that for lack of a better concept appear to be blood based and metal based potions. If our Department of Mysteries oversteps it's very strict charter, their last two treaties with Magical Great Britain both allow and encourage the Goblins to step in."

"Dear god," said Potter, "is _that_ what Binns has been trying to get across to us?"

Narcissa smiled. Another seed planted, another pupil who would probably study enough history to be an asset to the country if he ever got control of his family's dormant Wizengamot seat.

Potter said nothing, and continued to stare at the lip of her desk. Finally he shook himself, "this seems like a lot of knowledge to be giving me for free, what are you expecting in return?"

"My dear cousin," said Narcissa, "I was merely distracted by your questions about the dark arts. I'm sorry to bore you, I'm afraid I'm something of an apologist for the study of history."

Potter snorted, "That was the most interesting history lecture I've ever heard, probably because it was about social studies and economics and political theory, rather than history."

"Hmm," said Narcissa, "What's your point?"

"You don't teach science by making pupils read lab notebooks, or not until … probably NEWT level," said Potter, "you don't teach charms by showing the rune diagrams that used to be used instead of the charm in question, you don't teach potions by starting from scratch and try to get your pupils to invent a potion and then calculate all the nominally inert substances needed to chaperone its key ingredients into proper symmetry, and then let them blow themselves up several times trying their formulas."

"Your point?"

"Why teach history that way, when economics and political theory and social dynamics should be taught first so that when we are NEWT level and are ready to be making up our own philosophies we already know what to look for when we read the lab notebooks of those disciplines, the pages of history."

Narcissa was genuinely surprised, but rather than show it, she chose to show a feral grin instead, "Come back with a masters in each of those subjects and I have a teaching post for you."

Potter snorted, "If I didn't know the public figure for Dumbledore's age, I'd completely disbelieve that offer was genuine."

"I'm not _that_ old," said Narcissa, "there's a good chance I could still hold this post when you and your curriculum is ready."

Potter had the decency to look abashed, "I meant gaining four masterys in _my_ lifetime, I didn't even get around to calculating for yours."

"I think you do yourself a disservice," said Narcissa, "Draco at least is impressed by your study skills, I am somewhat disappointed to hear rumours that you may be going to turn aside into law, rather than continue on through all of defence and mind arts before apprenticing with I or Bellatrix for the what little there is in the way of dark arts in the Black and Malfoy Family libraries."

Potter blinked, "I don't know whether to feel complemented … well I do feel complemented by Draco's assessment of my progress with what he's taught me, but I have very mixed feelings at the idea that Bellatrix will be out of Azkaban at some point and available for that sort of tutoring. I'm amused at your portrayal of the … dearth of information in the Black and Malfoy family libraries. And I feel … obligated by your frankness to admit that I've imagined myself as a healer more than as a dark arts researcher."

Another rumour confirmed. Narcissa smiled indulgently, "surely …" she didn't know how to put it, or rather she knew several ways to put it, but didn't know Potter or Matirni well enough either in truth or in the essence of either personality, to know how either would respond to any of the approaches that seemed most obvious to her.

_When in doubt start with the statement even a prude could not disagree with, and if more prodding were needed__—_

"Actually," Potter said interrupting her thoughts, "that is how I imagined Harriet Matirni would enjoy spending her time when she wasn't being my agent and personal retainer. Now that she may not have the option to goof off when I myself have enough responsibilities to keep me busy enough to need one or more personal assistant, I'm not sure what Matirni will nominally be doing."

"I see," said Narcissa, "how long do you anticipate keeping up the ruse?"

"My first reaction is as long as possible, my second reaction is until graduation, my third is something between the two."

"Have you considered marriage, and the difficulty of courting when you are known to have such a cute retainer, et cetera,"

Potter sighed, "I don't want to _think _about that right now,"

Narcissa shrugged, "Speaking as your aunt, you don't need to worry about _marriage_ until you graduate, and yet where better to watch the reputations of others develop, where better to let others see your own."

Potter nodded, then shrugged, "If the statistics are anything to go by I'll care very much by fourteen, I sort of want to be a lot more … capable by then,"

"You have the core for it,"

"What?"

"You are very powerful. Charlus Potter was very powerful, and his wife Dorea nee Black was only a bit less formidable, their son James was less powerful than either but had a bit more confidence and ambition. He very wisely chose one of the most powerful witches in his year, though she was _not _the best pupil."

Potter nodded.

"But study skills can be taught. Discipline must come from within. Ambition arises from many sources. With intelligence and power you must make do with what you inherit, though finesse with each can only be learned through practice."

Potter nodded.

"You appear to be above average in each of these aspects, if you were _just_ Matirni, First of her Line, there are many half bloods and cadet branches that don't need to care about blood status who would be glad to add your talents to their family portfolio, or to their blood line. If you were only Potter of Potter, there are many more who'd be eager to add that connection to their register of alliances, and no doubt several young women who'd give anything to be under the protection of a decent young man who happens to also be a rich young lord with no parents-in-law to worry about."

Potter snorted.

"As it is, you almost certainly will have to choose between the two,"

"Well of course," said Potter, "or look for someone who swings both ways _and _happens to like both of me, or two people who are both somehow content with both of me having a long term dalliance on the side, which would be awkward if it ever came out that my mistress wasn't cute little Matirni, but that I'm also Matirni and have a whole other husband somewhere … No, that's just … no."

Narcissa nodded, "A very good point, There is no way it would work without your spouse finding out, it would be better if he or she knew to start with and not only didn't mind, but didn't mind being part of the charade."

"Back to the 'swing both ways' option,"

"Not necessarily, but it might not hurt," Narcissa shrugged, "This has taken longer to say than the simple statement I was going to make that I'd push Draco at you if you weren't cousins, and if it wouldn't get in the way of you holding your seat, and several other things."

"And that Padma jealously watches who he spends time with,"

"Oh dear, I hadn't thought things had progressed that far,"

"I'm not certain it has," said Potter, "she said something aggressively proprietary just once, and I told her there was nothing to worry about, from me, and that he hasn't shown the least bit of interest in me that way, I only look excessively fond of him because I'm used to having more cousins around than there are pupils in my year and here I have only him and Blaise, the Patils, I guess there's also Daphne, Tracy, Hermione, and Neville, but those are a distant second compared to the first four."

"And that was it?"

"And that was it," Potter agreed, "though … I'm not sure how to explain it, as Potter, Draco has been more affectionate with me. He's never hmm initiated touch, but he's stated being open to it to taking place. And conversely that it should not happen in public until he's studied what is appropriate, because he never bothered to research _that_ before. I'm sort of waiting for him to get back to me." Potter shrugged.

"Interesting," said Narcissa, "are you presenting evidence that he prefers wizards or…"

"Or may neglect to bring you an heir?" said Potter, "that wasn't the implication I caught. What I understood was that he didn't feel closely enough related to Matirni for anything to be appropriate except for him to protect her in Potter's stead. Once we were certain that I _am_ Potter that makes me both near enough cousin that he's comfortable hugging me, and I think, it removes the danger of Potter popping up and being offended that he's taken advantage of a position of trust to form a friendship with Matirni."

"Ah!" said Narcissa, "that does sound much more apropos,"

"We're still not sure what is apropos in pureblood circles between cousins, especially when one or more is male, and he's stated an intention to clear it with Padma first, though we haven't exactly … agreed on how much we're willing to tell Padma about my … dual identity."

Narcissa nodded, "that is remarkably well thought out and forward thinking for a second year. However," she sighed, "boys shouldn't be getting that prudish until thirteen, I thought,"

"I certainly wasn't until I read all those books he gave me," Narcissa sighed, "I'll talk to him,"

"Aunt Narcissa, if I may presume, feel free to 'talk to' me as well."

Narcissa snorted, "fair enough, Mr. Potter, and that's cousin, not Aunt."

Potter shrugged, "you feel like an aunt, and … Matirni is in the habit of calling many of her cousins-once-removed, 'Aunt' or 'Uncle'"

"Be that as it may," said Narcissa, "I take your point, and your permission, in the spirit it was meant, but I think we should move back from social matters toward the main point of this meeting. But before that, I was trying to state that you have a very powerful magical core, and you will be held back by your study speed and/or ambition, not by your power, as some of your classmates might be."

"Oh. Alright."

"Now, back to business,"

"Right," said Potter, "Where were we, I want my Potter persona to be emancipated. I'm not certain I want to delegate my Wizengamot vote to you or anyone else I happen to know, I'd rather … put that off until I have a definite political stance and notice someone consistently voting something close to my principles, even if it doesn't happen to be a traditional ally of the Potters or the Blacks."

"Very good," said Narcissa, "what are your principles so far?"

"I like what I read in 'in Magic's Debt,' and 'Family First' but I have the feeling that those philosophies are not what is commonly in play when one discusses 'legislation that is motivated by the 'pureblood' party line'."

"You are partly correct," said Narcissa, "can you give an example?"

"Actually, I can't," said Potter, "it's just a vague feeling I've gotten that 'pureblood' means different things to purebloods than it does to everyone else and when in the Wizengamot."

...

"Imagine for a moment," said Narcissa, "that you controlled a voting bloc that could get _anything_ passed in the Wizengamot, and you had the ear and very probably the willing cooperation of every pureblood family that has obligations to sponsor this generation and perhaps the next,"

"Alright," said Potter in a slightly dazed voice.

"So you can surely remake society in your own image for perhaps a generation, perhaps more, what would it look like?"

"Hmm," said Potter, "certain portions of hmm education and finance might look a bit more … French, certain portions of the regulations on wards on private residences might be a bit more relaxed which is to say encouraged to be a bit more British, though certain portions of the regulations on wards on public facilities and businesses or rather the spaces of those buildings which are intended to be public spaces might be a bit tighter."

"Hmm," said Narcissa unsure what she'd just tripped over.

"Not finished yet," the child leaned back and let his eyes droop, "is there a reason that the floo system works the way it does, instead of as a series of direct portals more like magic mirrors."

"What would be the advantage?"

"If you could ride down the main streets of each magical village in series." A short pause, "Sorry, its a silly whim but I do like riding, either broom or unicorn, it just seems a shame that such is no longer practical."

"There are enclaves that are compact enough, there's no reason you can't live close enough to a village that you couldn't ride there and back instead of taking the floo or apparating. Ottery St. Catchpole is small enough many families let their children walk from farm to village and back with no supervision, or did before the last war."

"Ah yes, I forget about apparating. Is it possible to side-along apparate a mount with me, and would it be overly eccentric of me to do so?"

"For most people it is not … practical to side-along apparate more than a small child, I have reasons to believe that by the time you are licensed you might already have the power, for sure by the time you are thirty you'd be able to manage. But if you started to never go anywhere without your favourite unicorn, there would be a large and vocal element who would be _certain_ that you were just showing off. Another fraction who'd just assume you were eccentric and probably crazy."

"Hmm,"

"But as subtle a show of force, it might be an ideal solution, under certain circumstances."

"Hmm," said Potter, "I almost certainly have other views I'd feel strongly about until I got into the details of how to implement them and realised that what we have already isn't so bad,"

"Is that all?"

"I guess," Potter sat up and blinked, obviously needing a bit of time to reorient from his daydream back to the real world, "No, certainly not, Sirius and everyone else who hasn't had a trial is removed from Azkaban and has three months to consult with a solicitor until such time as they _do _get a trial. The department of magical games and sports is privatised or turned into a trust or something, so is everything else that isn't part of law, defence, and foreign relations."

"I can get behind that," said Narcissa with a nod.

"Sorry," said Potter, "I got stuck in designing a utopia and forgot the context of the topic for a moment,"

"I understand, I may have presented the question poorly."

"What was the point of this thought exercise?"

"It worked better on Neville," said Narcissa, "here's the second part: imagine your utopia exists and there are various muggleborns who choose not to take sponsors, as well as immigrants and refugees who wish to be part of the society, some even choose to naturalise and wish to vote in the elections of the non-hereditary seats, worse, some of them even wish to run, specifically to get rid of these 'unseemly portals' and 'the menace of unicorns and dragons on our streets',"

"Oh _dear_," Potter mock wailed.

He looked at her like she was about to drop another shoe. Then the idea registered.

"This generation we make it so that only native born half bloods or better can vote or hold office, next generation it's only second generation half bloods, some-year soon it's second generation but only if at least half of your muggleborn ancestors did not refuse sponsorship, et cetera…"

Narcissa let her triumph show on her face.

"What is the _actual _law?" said Potter, "purebloods only but exceptions can be made for deserving half bloods with enough letters of recommendation from real purebloods?"

"Effectively, yes," said Narcissa.

"Merlin!" said Potter, "Damn!" and then, "Merlin!" again.

"Now what?" said Narcissa.

"That removes … perhaps disenfranchises seven-eighths or so of the population (could be as much as 15/16ths, I think, depending on the ratios of birth rates and things), creating a situation where most of the population don't really think of it as 'their' society just 'a society' and the one they happen to live in."

"What next?" said Narcissa.

"In the last war," said Potter, "a large portion of the population did their best to completely ignore the whole thing?"

"Yes," said Narcissa, At the time she'd thought they were just cowards unwilling to stand up either for what they believed in, or for the peace and security of their families, it had been rather depressing. But Potter's ability to predict that from … from just her little thought experiment was a different angle than she'd been expecting. She wondered if she even could understand it, she'd been born a pureblood and never tried to imagine what it _felt_ like to be disenfranchised, well she didn't get her way a time or two, but it wasn't a long term state of affairs. It had made Narcissa intent on gaining control of enough power and wealth that it wasn't likely to be a problem in the future, she hadn't considered the lack of loyalty inherent in the concept of 'nothing to lose by leaving.'

"So what's your solution?" said Narcissa.

Potter smirked, "sponsorship tests and citizenship oaths, not everyone will be able to memorise good etiquette, and there's a difference between learning enough to understand what's being said, and enough to be minimally polite, and enough to pass as a native born pureblood, they might even bring something better from wherever they're from, but as long as they give us the benefit of the doubt of _learning_ how we lubricate our interpersonal exchanges, they are permitted far enough into society that they can demonstrate their respect by using ours, and the superiority of theirs by slipping it in where it works better. And every time anyone says 'I stand for the good of my family, my friends, and my neighbours, so help me Magic,' or—" Potter paused, coughed and blinked several times, "that's all to the good, even if only a few of them know how to mean it yet." He blinked several more times, and breathed deeply, as if trying to correct something wrong with his chest.

"That was NOT a standard magical oath," said Narcissa, _the words were all wrong, the colours were all wrong._

Potter took his hand out of his pocket and looked at his hand, there were blisters and welts rising diagonally across his palm and fingertips, if Narcissa didn't miss her guess, they marked where his wand and hand were in contact when his oath, his … ceremony took.

"There's a dark ceremony for you to add to your journal," said Narcissa, "you probably should _not_ explain to Madam Pomfrey _exactly_ how you came by those burns,"

Potter shrugged and glared at the welts, they suddenly doubled in size and he winced and reached across to grab his wand with his left hand, after a couple healing spells he returned the wand to his right hand and closed his eyes. A few moments later he relaxed and put his wand down, the skin on his hand looked new.

So much for her suspicions about the seriousness of his interest in healing. And perhaps an interesting example of the strengths and limits more practical uses of metamorphmagic.

"You were saying?" she said.

He shrugged, "Sure, make everyone subjects if they do the bare minimum to act civilised, but leave a path open to citizenship for those who can demonstrate an attitude that implies they understand the responsibility they want well enough for them to deserve the power that goes with it."

"I see," she said.

"That way everyone knows they could become minister or chief warlock, if they choose a career path that leads there. Every office or career you contemplate choosing but ultimately reject is a career you are more likely to respect and/or sympathise with later on, when it matters. Gives everyone ownership of the whole society."

"What do you mean by ownership?"

"Not the legal definition, I mean, a propitiatory feeling you have when you know that your career, whatever it is, contributes to society, a society you call your own. And where, as you walk down the street and see all these little urchins squealing and playing, you know that in a round about way that they are your niblings."

Narcissa folded her hands and sat back.

_Was he an empath?_ She'd never had _that _feeling until she'd taken over Lucius' post as Chair of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. And she hadn't even noticed feeling it until the day she and Augusta had led the raid on the records room.

Or was he _used _to the feeling? From growing up as the sixth or eighth heir of the Matirni line and no idea what that line entailed other than the circus that the family _ran_, and to some extent _was_.

_There was an odd thought. _"And you want to make sure everyone feels this way, about the whole of Magical Britain."

"If at all possible," said Potter, "I'm not sure what other people mean by 'patriotism,' it's what _I _mean by it."

Narcissa nodded, _what an interesting conversation partner he was turning out to be, she might have to share this memory with Augusta, Perhaps also Mrs. Goyle and even Severus._

More to the point: Andromeda.

"But there's a limit," said Potter, "some people are elder siblings by age two and understand the nature of responsibility before they can read, others are youngest or only siblings and don't notice responsibility being a thing to have or to feel or to choose until thirteen or perhaps seventeen. That's why I _wouldn't_ make citizenship mandatory, let them just be 'of age,' let them take responsibility for themselves alone until they have grown enough to be ready and willing to accept the responsibility of helping rule the … family, that is Magical Great Britain, if they _ever _reach that point."

"Or the commonwealth," said Narcissa.

Potter's eyes snapped to hers, "or the magical world," he said, "or all known and cooperating races of beings,"

"Very good, Mr. Potter," she said.

"Are there … known beings from other planets?"

"There are documents suggesting such, but the only ones not yet disproved as fictions or hoaxes or mere foreigners communicating poorly are all older than three thousand years, most are over four and a quarter millennia,"

His eyes widened, for several seconds, "so not in the habit of cooperating with us, at any rate, fine, never mind."

_Where had that come from? Well, no matter._

"And what powers would come with this acceptance of responsibility?"

"The franchise, at the very least, if it doesn't go with paying taxes, (as it is supposed to in America). Certainly being eligible to hold office or be nominated for the Wizengamot, which certainly could have it's own oath of office." He paused and glanced at her, "it _does _have an oath of office doesn't it?"

She smirked, "Not as such," she said, "there is an oath but one might think from looking at it that it was for a peerage and a constituency of one's own family, not the general election,"

"That's dangerously de-coupled, but whatever. Yes, that ought to be fixed, though I imagine it would be easier to fix from nothing than from a tradition that is inappropriate for what it is… wait back up."

"Yes?"

"You said some seats are hereditary and some seats are elected,"

"Correct."

"And the oath of office is correct for the hereditary seats, if another oath was introduced it might be more appropriate to be connected to the elected seats?"

"Plausible," said Narcissa, "I think it would be safest to say the current oath is '_more_ correct' rather than 'actually correct', both could probably stand to be reworked, especially in light of the levelling of status I hear you to be advocating."

"Alright, whatever, though I would want to make sure that even half-bloods and purebloods have to pass the citizenship tests and take the citizenship oaths to take up their family responsibilities, just like muggleborn and naturalising foreigners, it's more likely for the tests to stay fair that way. Where were we?"

...

"You were asking what the pureblood party line was, I showed you by giving you a scenario where, when you reached for the simplest solution, you invented the very law that became the central tenant of the bloodpurist voting bloc. Then instead of going into a discussion of what other parties there are, you critiqued that law and re-solved the original problem to offer a more direct route to the society dynamics that you perceive to be ideal."

"Something like that," said Potter, "So do you already know what party I belong in, or must I start my own? Or … should we discuss those other parties?"

"You can see oddly clearly for not knowing any details of the exact situation," said Narcissa, "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you that your family does _not_ control a hereditary seat,"

"I'd verify with an independent source," said Potter, "what would you hope to gain by such a statement,"

"There are at least three minor factions that might come around to your way of thinking, but only if they had a while to stew on your words, and in one instance if they didn't know your name,"

"So there's a minor faction that could evolve to be mine but wouldn't let me in if I asked in my own name?"

"Yes," said Narcissa, "Or not without watching how you vote for several decades,"

She rubbed her temple and wondered if she could explain the next nuance she felt he needed to be made aware of. "Within the bloodpurists in the wizingamot and holding other positions within the ministry, there is a spectrum, on one end there are those who hold manage to hold power _only _because they are pureblood, and we'd all be better off with if one of their knowledgeable and capable assistants were promoted in their place. At the other end you have the capable people who happen to be where they are because they chose to strive for the position or the power which they now hold, they almost certainly are aware that their family status eased the way, and perhaps made them feel that it is their duty to serve society as they have, but for them by and large it is an accident of birth and they would not begrudge someone changing the laws to make it a meritocracy not an aristocracy, of course they'd be fairly certain that their capabilities alone would entitle them to keep their jobs or offices."

"Let me guess," said Potter, but then he was silent.

"Yes, the Malfoys are the latter, Lestrange were the former. The Black seat by the way _is _hereditary."

"Ah," said Potter, "Now I understand enough context to imagine the next thing you're going to tell me is that the Potter seat is hereditary, but we'll have to take a four generation vacation because Mum's parents were squibs."

"It doesn't do for you to make up your political rival's lies for them,"

Potter sat up and stared at her, "What?" he said.

She smirked, "never mind, I just said I'd do anything to maintain power, and blood status is hardly the most important foundation of my influence, the fastest way I see to lose that power is to encourage you to run for an elected seat, most likely mine or the Bones seat, depending on which year you ran. To go back to your last statement, there are at least three different ways to calculate blood status. The simplest is your blood status calculated from the highest status of your parents at your birth, according to that you are pureblood, after you father. The next is the lowest of your surviving parents and/or registered guardians at either your debutante or your coming of age. According to that you are all set to be half blood first generation, unless you can get your godparents back into the realm of legal competence before then, or get I or some other pureblood to register as your magical guardian."

"Lovely," said Potter, "And the last?"

"You start with those two numbers as a range of possibilities, determine what you can live up to well enough to deserve, and use your best manners to act that way, and see how many people accept you as such."

"Yes," said Potter, "That would be the most important one,"

He kept surprising her, not by having hugely different perspectives (though he did that), but by the speed at which his insights came forth.

He took her silence for an invitation to continue calculating, "I suppose your next line is something about where my etiquette still needs work."

"Well it does," she said, "but it's not as bad as I expected, keep working on it and remember to study both male and female forms if you're going to insist on playing both rolls. Actually you should anyway, given that you have to interact with everyone, not just family."

"Right," he said, "Do you have any suggestions on the godparents issue?"

"Well, given that you're seeking emancipation soon and not waiting for a traditional debutante, you'll want me to get your magical guardianship reassigned to me before that, then your only applicable guardian will be pureblood."

"Right," said Potter.

"Matirni's sponsorship makes everything weird, because you weren't of age when you offered that to her,"

"Ah," said Potter, "so its either me acting pureblood by the spirit of the law, or me or both of us acting very much like an idiots according to the letter of the law?"

"Something like that," said Narcissa, "Here's what we do…"

**{End Chapter 7}**


	31. 2-8: An unexpected debriefing

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**A conversation with Riddle**

Narcissa stared at the small crowd of children that were ranged about her office. She'd just seen Potter out and thought she would finally get a chance for a late supper, and now this.

What a collection of power pawns— make that _pupils_. But maintain an alertness to what they could represent in only five to ten year's time. _She'd thought that this stage of her life and political career had been finished for more than ten years._

Just a week ago she'd been looking forward to being around children again, it would be a good method to keep her mind off her husband's disappearance. Now here she was with an impenetrable fortress, that was also a school that either had an unknown monster loose within or a dark witch or wizard of unknown power. Either way, _her_ pupils were being attacked and she didn't have a clue what was going on. The fact that her son was the first attacked merely gave her a form of political sympathy from the parents, it did nothing to help her understand who or what was causing the attacks. It had been but the thought of a moment to deduce that the top suspects should have been the defence professor, and the pupils known to be accessing the restricted section. The youngest of which had just left before this … party had appeared and demanded audience.

But … neither of those possibilities felt reasonable, the defence professor was unutterably incompetent, either as a teacher or at defence. And the young witch was … well she had as ready access to Draco as any of his housemates, but she had an alibi for the night he was attacked, and during most of the other attacks as well.

And while Narcissa had summoned her here with the intention of determining exactly what she knew about the attacks, their conversation had turned aside to the girl's obvious and convoluted political machinations. Convoluted only because the girl was twelve and couldn't exercise her rights until she was of age unless she could become emancipated. The favours she'd asked of 'Lady Malfoy nee Black' were so straightforward she'd composed most of the requisite letter to her solicitor in her head before the girl had finished talking.

And then the others had arrived.

...

Where to start? The Indian princess with deadly beauty and unnatural poise she'd met just twice before, once when her family had appeared out of nowhere to 'comfort Draco' apparently her Ravenclaw twin had exchanged permission with Draco 'to make sure that the other was on their parents' lists of candidates, whenever it came time to arrange the marriage of each.'

And again less than a month later when Harriet Matirni requested a favour that took the form of 'the school shopping party of the Malfoy line and clients' to escort 'the school shopping party of the Matirni Travelling Circus.' But that had more to do with Harriet Matirni than with Patil Parvati, Princess.

...

Then there was Patil Padma, Princess, the Ravenclaw half of the pair. A bit more slovenly than her sister, but quite a bit more bookish and capable, according to her professors. In Diagon Ally she'd seemed the more reserved, the more responsible of the pair, right now she looked like she hadn't slept in a month. and smelled like she'd laid in a muddy mouldy puddle for several hours, though several cleaning charms may have taken care of the visual evidence of that bit of her adventure.

...

And here was Neville Longbottom, Heir of Longbottom. Narcissa had known and worked together with his Grandmother for ages, a few of the Longbottom tracts bordered with tracts within the Black's greater holdings it was only natural that they interacted, and after she took up the roll of Lady Malfoy instead there were still similar reasons to interact somewhat, though it had to be a much more distant and nuanced relationship, what with nominally being on opposite sides of the 'war' and all.

What no one had ever suspected was that it was Narcissa, and not her sister, who had kept Lucius under the imperious at those critical junctures when his pride or his principles would have gotten in the way of the cause.

Another thing that no one had suspected was how much influence Narcissa and Bellatrix had exercised on the Dark Lord through their husbands, Lucius his political advisor (under protest), and Lord Lestrange his top commando, and his brother top ritual researcher.

There was no question that the half-blood with the odd title had been one of the most powerful wizards in centuries, at least as far as those tested by the European standards. No one had tested him or Dumbledore in later life, but he'd had at least as much raw power as Grindelwald before each of them delved into the various power enhancement rituals each had found.

She'd always thought he'd disappeared just a bit too easily. Either he'd suddenly gone off on a whim, or he'd received word of something that required his attention. Or someone had taunted him with the fact that he'd missed some obvious power gain ritual, and he'd gone elsewhere to take care of the oversight.

Or Dumbledore's story was true, and a mother's sacrifice had saved her child by means of some sort of equally obscure ritual that allowed the unblockable killing curse to be rebounded.

Or Harriet Matirni's story was true, that Lily had done nothing at all, and her hereditary magic reacted as it was always known to when the last female of a branch, even a cadet branch, died without female offspring.

Or something else that wasn't dreamt of in her philosophy. Which was just as likely, actually. More likely than a rebounded killing curse anyway.

...

And unless she missed her guess, here was _that_ dark lord, except a younger version. It was an interesting question: what ritual had he undergone that would allow him to not just return, perhaps from death (if the rumours were true) but actually age backward.

Merlin himself was said to experience reverse ageing, at least according to some sources.

It might be even less advisable to antagonise him now than it had been ten years ago.

And as he was proven to be willing to leave at a moment's notice to strengthen himself, even if it meant abandoning his followers in the midst of battle. Leaving them to trial and imprisonment. It would _not_ do— it was _highly _inadvisable to publicly acknowledge any sort of liability for his actions. And yet…

Who but the most paranoid, or the most alert would recognise this … 'pupil' to be the great and terrible, the dark lord of a decade ago.

Under her desk she cast the naming charm at him.

...

"Tom Marvolo Riddle?" she said.

His eyes darkened, "Yes ma'am,"

"Narcissa Malfoy, Headmistress of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She said extending her hand.

"Charmed," he said bowing over it. No hint of recognition, only the slightest of smirks that he'd already known her title by which office he was in.

"How old are you?" she said, "Fifteen or sixteen, at a guess,"

He nodded without betraying either of those numbers as correct.

"Do you have parents or magical guardians to represent your interests?"

"No, ma'am," he said.

"Do you wish to petition for admittance and a scholarship to attend here?"

He looked intrigued, and impressed, and something else. He nodded.

She reached into a handy drawer and pulled out a copy of each standard forms and filled out the date on both of them. Then she filled out the guardianship form the way she wanted it.

Name: Tom Marvolo Riddle, IV

Birthday:

Blood status: Pure blood

Current Guardianship: None/Orphan

Prospective Guardian: Narcissa Malfoy, Headmistress

"Fill in your birthday, and feel free to add any pertinent details in the space provided for your statement if you have any. Or leave it blank, usually these things are filed before the pupil in question even knows how to write, so don't feel obligated to say anything."

She passed it to him and started filling out the enrolment form.

It was also standard information in most ways, except that he was probably enrolling as a fifth or sixth year, and he didn't have parents pay for his tuition in their will or before they died. Which meant there was less for her to fill out and more for him to fabricate, but if his almost controlled reaction to her modification to his name was any indication, he was more than up to the task.

She handed him the other form.

She might as well move Harriet's petition along while she was thinking about it.

"You may fill out the parts that you know how," she frowned, "In fact why don't you go through that door, there are six or eight cubicles, pick one to work in, and wait for me to call you back in," She motioned to the private proctoring room that Dumbledore had used for a vestibule to a shrine to his many battles, something she'd never have suspected of him, but she converted it back in its classic function.

"Yes, Ma'am," Riddle bowed and went where she directed.

Narcissa turned back to the other three, "alright," she said, "you better tell me all about it. Who wishes to go first?"

The young woman that Narcissa did not recognise motioned to Neville Longbottom, "he should probably go first, or last, depending on whether you wish to get the fullest story on the first pass, or whether you wish to get the shortest statement and dismiss him." _A fine display of management potential, so slytherin or hufflepuff? And if a Hufflepuff bothered to mention that that reverse order telling might combine helpfully combine standard strategic communication with debriefing treatments, it was best to listen to them. Doubly so if the _need _for debriefing treatment were strong enough for a slytherin to even notice it._

Narcissa turned to Neville, "Mr. Longbottom, do you have a preference?"

"Do you want to hear about what happened tonight, or enough of our investigation to understand our motivations as the uh 'adventure' unfolded?"

Narcissa frowned, "I don't need to hear about anyone's motivations or justifications, unless I hear of someone committing actions of an untoward nature. Shall we start with just the facts of which actions took place, and perhaps we can all get to sleep on time. If a further investigation is warranted we can save for tomorrow a discussion of who knew what when, or thought they knew what and why, et cetera."

"Yes, ma'am," He said, "Bare minimum then, Parvati told me at least a month ago that she was aware when her sister disappeared into unplotable locations, generally around here that means into secret passageways and hidden storage rooms, but that it seemed like it was becoming more common for her to be disappearing at other times even when sitting still. And that had happened each time the chamber of secrets taunts had appeared on the walls. But since she didn't think Padma would have done any of the things that were attributed to the author of the taunts, she believed that her sister was either investigating the taunts, or was being possessed and forced to commit them."

"Oh, dear," said Narcissa.

"So when Padma disappeared again, while sitting still and studying, Parvati grabbed me and we hurried to where Parvati believed Padma had been when she disappeared. She wasn't there, and on the way back we heard that a new taunt had been written, we went and found it, It said, 'Her Bones Will Lay in the Chamber of Secrets for All Time,'"

A chill ran up and down Narcissa's spine. And she wordlessly began writing a note to Filch and Flitwick to have _that_ removed soonest, unless of course they'd already done so, in which case, good job.

"We were fairly sure," said Neville with a shudder of his own, "that it meant Padma. Parvati said something about Luna advising her to talk to Moaning Myrtal about going downstairs, and she led me to one of the girls washroom and told me I _had _to come with her, or she'd tell my gran something awful about abandoning her in a moment of crisis, also that she was willing to owe me a favour."

Padma looked at Parvati, Parvati looked at Neville, Neville shrugged, "I didn't need all that convincing to be helpful, but I did need to be sure that she seriously wished me to accompany her into the washroom. There was no ghost but as we checked she noticed something hollow sounding somewhere, and all of a sudden drew her wand and transfigured a pungi out of something and started to play it. After a minute or so the last sink dropped into the floor to reveal the most disgusting tunnel I've _ever _seen. After a bit of trying to see down it, we gave up and just conjured rope and dropped bluebell flame flares down it and followed them down as fast as we could."

Narcissa put her hand on her forehead. _Merlin save us from impetuous Gryffindors_.

"Go on," she said drily.

"We got to the bottom and there was a _huge _tunnel, hmm, about twice as wide as the regular corridors on third floor, arched on top, there were sconces but no torches in them."

Useless trivia… "Go on,"

"So we lit our wands and explored down it until we got to the end, but Parvati said it was a door not a wall and played music at it, too. Only about eight notes this time and it opened into an even larger room. And at the far end of the room behind a pillar or something there was the faint light of magic sparks pouring or flying like a charm, but in a somewhat even flow not in a sudden burst. Anyway the perspective was a little hard to determine in the dark, but we could tell it was a huge amount of magic, and that it was very far off. And she sent me to get help while she went on. But—"

"Hold it," said Narcissa, "why were you going for help and she going on, and not the other way around?"

Neville shrugged, "it was her sister that was missing, and she was the one who could get the doors open, and she was the one who'd heard the most from Padma and Luna about whatever they'd found so far."

Which didn't make either one of them more or less expendable, only meant she had a better chance of succeeding alone than he did. _What would she have told the the twin's parents if neither of them had come back?_

Twins, _of course they didn't want to survive each other._

_No, bad assumption to make, never mind._

"Alright, go on."

"So I went back and tried to climb the rope, but it was too slimy and I had to conjure gloves, and cast cleaning charms on the pipe and rope as I went up."

Narcissa began to get the picture, in his place she'd have almost certainly have given up and returned to the action, hoping that by helping he could ensure that no adult help was necessary, or she'd have given up on the rope and looked for another method. Broom? She wasn't sure how big the pipe was, portkey, not an option available to most second years,

Neville grimaced, "the second or third time I fell back down, well … slid back down, I realised that it was going to take much too long, and I'd better go back and help. Before I'd gotten halfway across the big cavern, the light was flashing ten or twenty times brighter than before, and then went out." he motioned to the unknown young woman, and toward the door into the proctoring room, "When I got there the two of them were talking to Parvati, and Padma was just starting to wake up, so we all got clean and something huge crashed off to the side, and all of a sudden they were all ready to _get out of there _so we moved back toward the door." Another wave toward the proctoring room, "He hissed and the door closed after us, and when we got to the rope he looked at it for a bit and shook his head like he thought we'd done it all wrong, but after a second he made the rope longer and put enough loop knots in it and told us to stand, each with one foot in a loop and he'd shorten the rope to lift us out. So we did that. And then came here."

"I see," said Narcissa, "thank you for your help, and your explanation, do you wish to stay to hear everyone else's version of events, or are you ready to go find chocolate and a shower?"

"A shower sounds just about right," he said, "umm, you do understand that … that Tom Riddle is a parselmouth."

"Yes, I inferred that you thought so," she said.

"Alright," said Neville, "I think that's all,"

"Alright, you may go, you can expect to see the results of this meeting by inspecting your house point totals tomorrow morning,"

"Yes, ma'am," he said and turned toward the door.

Narcissa sighed and looked over the others, Parvati looked _indignant_, in an agitated and hopelessly respectful sort of way.

She must be leaning on him in more ways than he realised.

Well, no matter, "Who's next?"

Parvati raised her hand, "I am, probably." Then again, guessing that she'd need to go next might be enough to make her agitated again.

"That would be fine, go ahead."

Parvati stayed still and silent for several seconds, then began, "after Neville left for help I continued on until I came around the column he talked about, and found Padma curled up tight like her stomach hurt something fierce, and she had _that _on her head," Parvati pointed at a delicate silver crown in the strange woman's hand.

"And it was sparking silver and her mouth and her wand were sparking red and silver and gold,"

The strange woman winced, but said nothing.

"And the sparks were travelling toward… him," a wave in the direction of the proctoring room, "or rather his ghost… except it wasn't a regular ghost, it wasn't white or grey, it was all the regular colours, just not solid yet. And the sparks were absorbing into his ghost and making it gradually more solid."

"Ah," said Narcissa.

"And I asked him what was going on, and he said his ritual was using Padma's soul and life essence and magic to build himself a new body and magical core,"

"Oh, dear," said Narcissa.

"Which I objected to, of course, eventually we came to understand each other, mostly about the fact that someone's soul and their life essence are different things. And that with enough magic he wouldn't need any life essence and with enough life essence he wouldn't need any soul. So I asked if we were really in Salazar's famous chamber of secrets, and he said probably not, but why did I ask, and I asked if his monster was around. And he said 'yes.' And I asked if he could please use magic and life essence from the monster instead of from my sister and he said, 'sure, that would be fine' so he called out something and something huge clunked on the far side of the room and a huge snake came out of a statue on the far side of the room, and when it got close he took Padma's wand and levitated the crown from Padma's head to the snake's head, and then the sparks stopped coming from Padma and started coming from the snake. Ten or twenty times faster, like Nevile said, it only took a few seconds before he was solid and then they started making her," Parvati pointed, "which took about eight seconds, and then while they looked at each other and seemed like they were going to fight, the snake came over and sniffed Padma for a second then the sparks started again and went into Padma until she shivered and got up. And then she grabbed her wand away from him and saw me and the Punji I had, and told me to say thanks to the snake for her and tell it that it was permitted to go or sleep.

"So I did that and it went back into the statue which closed with another great 'clunk!' Then Neville was there and wanting to know what was going on. So I told him that Padma was fine and we were just leaving." Parvati looked at the other two, "and everyone agreed so we came up, Neville left out the part where he conjured gloves and pudding caps for all of us to wear for the ride up, which was a good thought, I'm fairly sure my knuckles would be beaten bloody on the way up otherwise."

_So not all Gryffindors are impetuous equally. That was good to be reminded of from time to time._

Both Patils shivered, "That pipe—" "—was _gross_," they muttered at each other.

"Alright Neville," said Narcissa, "That will be twenty points to gryffindor for providing and using protective equipment," she paused and looked at Parvati, "And for you, twenty points for negotiating with your enemy before starting with the curses, especially under the circumstances of an unknown ritual in progress."

Parvati shivered, "thanks, I'm not … I wasn't certain he was an enemy, nor why he'd chosen Padma, nor if it would actually be bad for her… it sounded bad for her, and it _looked_ like it was hurting her, or something had."

Narcissa nodded, "And it was brave of you to try to find out first instead of first trying to rush in and stop things, you very possibly saved four if not more lives by doing so."

Parvati grimaced but nodded.

"You may head to bed also,"

Parvati nodded, but didn't move, "I'd rather wait for Padma, if it's all the same to you."

Narcissa turned to Padma. There was both a look of guilt, and a look of pride, and perhaps a little reluctance of some sort. Narcissa tried to soften her voice, "Is that alright with you?"

"I think so," said Padma.

"Do you have anything you wish to add right now? I have the feeling that you and your head of house and maybe one of your parents will go over everything with you carefully. To make sure that you're … all in once piece and understand everything that happened."

"That would probably be good," said Padma, "I don't think that there is much left to go over about what happened tonight, I guess you already know that he was in the diadem and took over while I wasn't paying attention."

"Yes, I got that," said Narcissa,

"Several times, I now infer." She covered her face with her hands.

Narcissa nodded, "many of these mind arts based artefacts are only safe to use after one has become at _least _an apprentice at the mind arts for one's self."

"Yes, ma'am," said Padma.

_Was that a nod of respect from the strange woman?_

"Why don't you two go, and catch up," said Narcissa, "showers are in order of course, would you also like a permission slip to spend the night together?"

"Yes," said Padma.

Parvati blinked in surprise. They looked at each other. Parvati nodded.

"Could it be the whole weekend?" said Padma.

"Yes," said Narcissa, and began writing two identical notes, "I expect you to use the time to recover so that your health and your studies _don't_ suffer, not to stay up until all hours so that they _do _suffer."

"Of course," they both agreed.

"You're dismissed," said Narcissa holding out the notes, "sleep well, I recommend hot chocolate at breakfast and lunch tomorrow, I'll leave it to you whether you think it is appropriate for the evening."

Soon they were gone.

Narcissa sighed, "Now, it's your turn, would you like to start with your name?"

"Helena Ravenclaw," said Helena Ravenclaw.

Narcissa blinked, "I thought the Ravenclaw line died out a generation or two after Hogwarts was founded."

"It may have," said Ravenclaw, "I was my mother's only daughter at the time of my … loosing myself in my mother's diadem."

"Your English is remarkable for someone so far outside of her time."

"I believe I inherited some skill in it from Padma and Riddle, and some skill in Parseltongue from Riddle and Slitherin's familiar, I suspect that they are already fading, though I hope with practice I shan't lose too much of this English."

"Yes," said Narcissa, "that would be awkward,"

Ravenclaw nodded, "I agree,"

"Tell me about your history and your plans as they might concern me,"

"I don't know how to answer that, I remember stealing Mother's diadem and trying it out, a great pain, probably as it was wrenched from my head leaving me inside, or something similar. Riddle appeared later, and was always trying to find me and steal any knowledge I might leave lying around, though I was mostly past the early habit of leaving things about by the time he showed up. He seemed to manage to enter and leave the diadem without undue trouble, at least until the last time. And when he did have his accident, he didn't leave as much behind as I had. So he sickened and grew bored with that solitary life much faster than I had.

"I lost interest in him and his dependence on the small library room Mother had built around the diadem entrance, I explored outward and learned many things about the environment that the diadem connected to, I had already learned to construct a place of my own and spent most of my time there long before he came. He never learned how to find it and me. When Padma came, I didn't know of it at first. Only knew what must be happening from the effects I could sense when I again visited Mother's library. The fraction of Riddle had grown stronger again, almost to the size he'd been when he first tore from his original.

"That meant he could pose a danger to me again, so I steered clear until later, when I could tell that his attention was focused elsewhere, That was the first time I knew he was possessing someone, and that she was in danger of overextending herself into the diadem, just as I had. And that the over-extension was both what was allowing Riddle to possess her body while her attention was inward, and what was almost certainly guaranteeing that she left bits her own essence around where Riddle could feed off them when she was gone again.

"I'm not surprised to learn that he found some way to sacrifice her to bring himself out. I was surprised when Salazar's familiar entered, she is too big to be accommodated by the entrance library, it was demolished instantly and the magic of her presence brought the landscape to life as I'd _never_ seen before. I came to investigate of course, and it took next to no time to make friends, she remembered me from her master's memories and offered to 'make me a body also, since Riddle had just taught her how,' I agreed but then she wished to bargain with me, so I bargained back. I got her to promise to help Padma too, and she got me to promise to make a diadem that would fit her head and stay on properly, and will continue to re-size as she grows, and that I'd give her lessons how to construct a proper hoard and den around her entrance as well."

"I'm given to understand that she is already quite large?"

"Yes, quite," said Ravenclaw, "I'm given to understand from the dates I've heard that she is almost a nine hundred years old?"

"Yes,"

"This will be quite the adventure," said Ravenclaw, "so much to learn, I caught just a whiff of how large the school library is now."

Narcissa smiled, "I hope you are not disappointed,"

Ravenclaw beamed.

"I hope it is not rude to ask, how old are you, not in calender years since you were born, but … how old to you perceive yourself to be,"

"I'm not sure I understand your question,"

"How much schooling have you had, and do you wish more."

"Oh, of course," said Ravenclaw, "I am twenty-six, though there is a large chance that all of my schooling is out of date. Do you think I should present myself as younger to avoid … annoying people with my lack of preparedness?"

"I don't have a good image of what you are likely to be behind in, other than current events. I'd like to keep you around in the hopes that you have ready access to long forgotten knowledge, but I don't know how much of that you're likely to possess either."

"For that you should ask Amelia,"

"Amelia?"

"Salazar Slytherin's basilisk familiar."

Narcissa blinked, "then it _was _a basilisk."

"Is, yes."

"How much danger is there of it getting out and petrifying or killing more pupils?"

"She only comes up into the school when called. She shouldn't have been up here. There's a tunnel for her use out to the edge of property, where she can make a circuit of the grounds to keep the vermin down without escaping the wards laid to contain and protect her. Like the chicken run laid around the gardens." A pause, "assuming either of those are still there."

Narcissa blinked, to treat a basilisk like a chicken, not as a pest but as a carefully chosen predator with a specifically contained boundary from which to hunt. To control more insidious pests. What were the founders guarding against?

"Wait," said Ravenclaw, "_More_ pupils? What happened? When was this?"

"Once fifty years ago, and twice this year. Once was my son,"

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" said Ravenclaw in deep distress, "She shouldn't have come up here. I bet it was Riddle that made her come up here. Shall we ask him?" and her hand twitched as if to ready a wand that was not present.

"I suppose we ought," said Narcissa, "but you may have misunderstood, my son was only petrified, and he has already been restored,"

"Oh, that is a relief… was he the only one hurt?"

"There was a pupil killed fifty years ago," said Narcissa, "No one has been killed this year."

...

In the end, it was settled, Riddle promised to never bring Amelia or any snake into the school with intent to harm or cause trouble or without petition to do so from the faculty, and in return he would be permitted to stay, and even permitted to pay his own way by selling basilisk venom and shed skin.

Then she sent both of the resurrected children with a house elf each to make themselves at home in guest rooms off the faculty corridor until such time as a sorting ceremony could be arranged for each.

Not that either of them expected to be placed in a different house from before, but it would raise fewer questions if they were introduced as normal transfers rather than as time travellers or resurrected ghosts or whatever.

**{End Chapter 8}**

**There you have it, the big twist that everyone has done before. And yet, perhaps I've managed to do it differently.**


	32. 2-9: The adults also investigate

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**A conversation with Snape**

"Severus, my dear," said Narcissa putting down her fork, "thanks so much for giving me some of your time. I apologise for the state I'm in," she motioned to her messy desk and the food she was trying to shovel down while she finished the letter she meant to duplicate and send to her own solicitor and to that of the late Lord Potter.

"I _hope _you're not going to get so much in the habit of wasting my time that you'll have to resort to blackmail to obtain more,"

Narcissa felt her eyebrows twitch, "That sounded dangerously close to an admission of some kind, though it might be closer to an accusation or a warning, given who I assume the previous perpetrator might have been."

"I did not state that anyone I know was in the habit of blackmailing anyone else I know," said Severus with one of his many characteristic sneers. Narcissa had often wondered if Lucius had been able to read more from them than she could.

Narcissa snorted, "Never mind that, I just came out of conference, with a Helena Ravenclaw and a Tom Marvolo Riddle, Junior. Both looking much younger and significantly more alive than they are commonly reported to be."

He froze, though he did it so smoothly that it was hard to detect. "Go on," he said after a pause that was just barely the wrong length.

"Based on the possibility that his past mistakes were driven from some sort of Napoleon complex, or that they weren't mistakes and I should do nothing whatsoever to cross him, I'm giving him this bit of fiction," she tossed him the magical guardianship form. He caught it out of the air with reflexes that came in handy all too often in the potions classroom.

He glanced at it, "Making him pureblood and two generations younger might make sense if I knew who in Merlin's name you're talking about."

"The half blood orphan that later became known as 'he who must not be named'."

He held up the form in front of his face and examined it minutely. At first she thought he was examining the handwriting and signature, then she realised that it was cover while he looked at his own left forearm.

"What can you tell me?" she said.

Severus put the parchment down and fixed his sleeves, "I know very little about his early life, and apparently less than I thought about his parentage."

Narcissa nodded and sighed, "I meant about your mark,"

"No change yet," he said, "Also … I suddenly begin to wonder if I was so trusted an instrument because I also was a slytherin halfblood with an unhappy childhood."

Narcissa suppressed a shiver and a blink, "It _is _possible,"

"What was that?"

"A phrase that Draco has begun using, 'Stock home syndrome.' The idea that it is significantly easier to befriend and win the loyalty of children from unhappy homes, and adults who have been kidnapped in such a way that it proves to them that the authorities that they normally trust to protect them, are not capable of performing that duty."

Severus sneered, "surely that isn't a concept worth mentioning often enough to warrant giving it a name."

"The _point_," explained Narcissa, "is that it can even work for the kidnappers who are causing the problem to start with."

"You mean—" Severus took several moments before he seemed to trust himself to allow his face to change, "I begin to see. I don't know if that was ever an issue with me, nor with the Dark Lord, but if he perceived that similar histories might allow us to think alike, he … might have perceived there to be a camaraderie that was not actually there."

Narcissa shrugged, "This has wandered rather far afield, I just wanted to let you know that the two of them will probably be present for two weeks, as I have provided them each quarters in the faculty wing for up to that period, and I have extracted promises from him not to allow or encourage Amelia, a large and somewhat friendly basilisk, originally Salazar's familiar, into the inhabited part of the school."

"Merlin!" said Severus, "do you think he'll keep that promise?"

"He promised on his magic," she said, "I don't imagine he of all people is willing to squib himself, even if he has enough knowledge to walk the path of a warlock."

"Fair enough," said Severus, "Was that all?"

"No, that's just item one and my first response to it. The corollary is, what else _don't I know _about that's going on in this fortress masquerading as a place of learning?"

"Well … have you read the mountain of parchment that your henchmen carried out of here?"

"Quite a bit of it." said Narcissa, "I know that Dumbledore was siphoning funds from the ward budget to fund original ward research by a NEWT level arithmancy club. And I know that Silvanus Kettleburn can retire at any moment and be entitled to more disability pay from lost appendages than he's making now teaching, I have no illusions that he'll stay on a moment longer than he chooses to feel obligated, and I shall do my best not to tip that balance. And I have suspicions about the transfer of funds from the hospital budget to the potions ingredients budget."

"I don't mind supplying the hospital wing's needs," said Severus defensively, "if I had the time."

Narcissa blinked, "what do you recommend?"

"Increase the hospital wing budget or whatever, buy what's needed wholesale if possible, retail if necessary. Except dreamless sleep, I've adapted the formula to make it less addictive and safer to use long term, and we go through much more of it than is … discrete to discuss openly."

"Do we need mind healers?"

Severus looked uncomfortable, "Yes," he said, "but unless I very much miss my guess, we need those trained in the techniques used to treat muggle aurors and by muggle aurors to treat rescued children."

"In what way are our own less desirable?"

"Merely observing trends," said Severus, "I'm not a mind healer, only an experienced potions master with some small knowledge in healing beyond what is needed for field expedient remediation. If I may use analogies from the physical and potions parts of healing that I do know, I see children survive and heal faster on their own than with the help of our healers, who wish to use magic to instantly heal the scars without investigating and cleansing the poison or infection first. They go back to normal within days some within hours, but underneath the wound festers, and it may take much less to re-open it than if it were permitted to heal on it's own."

_That might describe Bellatrix._

"And we'd need these muggles to be permitted through the statute of secrecy?" said Narcissa, "I'm not sure if that can be done in the nearest two generations."

"I also fear not," said Severus.

"What else," said Narcissa.

"I'd suggest you recommend a guideline about consumption of alcohol by faculty, but I'm not sure if the entire faculty wouldn't immediately resign in protest. So far as I can tell the stuff doesn't affect Hagrid or Flitwick. Minerva needs it to maintain her sanity and sleep schedule. Ms Trelawney uses it extensively to suppress her sight enough so that she can function as a human being. I'm not above indulging on Friday nights, when there aren't Hogsmead trips or quidditch games planned, or Saturday afternoons after the excitement is over and the urchins are back in the coop."

"I hear you, and have no wisdom," Narcissa sighed, "Neville Longbottom recommended to his grandmother that all subjects be split between two teachers, either after year four or year five, and that policy should dictate that Minerva should never been required to both teach, and guardian a house, and be deputy headmistress."

"I've been thinking that for years," said Severus, "but never could find a way to say it that didn't make it sound like I wished to shirk, or that I intended to denigrate Minerva's capabilities."

Narcissa frowned in thought for a time, "Would you go along with a move to create a part time position of 'school brewer' who would nominally answer to, and be paid from, the hospital wing budget, but would traditionally be someone in the potions department, or a be a NEWT potions pupil."

"Yes, I support that idea," said Severus.

Narcissa nodded, "Making it clear to me that you _also _have been labouring under a triple responsibility, even if one of them didn't have a title yet."

Severus visibly relaxed several shades.

"What else should I know about my faculty?"

"Do you want to know about Hagrid's growing menagerie?"

"No, I probably don't, tell me about it."

"The most egregious are a fifty year old colony of acromantula, a three year old Cerberus, and a one year old dragon. The herd of thestrals nominally belongs to the school though it is gradually increasing under the double watch and loving care of Kettleburn and Hagrid, the flock of hippogriffs is migratory and their presence almost certainly has more to do with the centaurs next door than with Hagrid, they are however almost as dangerous as the centaurs and equally ignored by the wards."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, all those are in somewhat poor taste for a school, but only the dragon is illegal?"

"Probably, you'd have to ask Kettleburn."

"What breed?"

"The dragon? A ridgeback of some sort, I'd guess East Siberian or Norwegian."

"We are in Scotland after all," muttered Narcissa, "anything from a more temperate clime might not survive the winter."

Severus shrugged.

"He couldn't have at least shown some patriotic spirit and gotten a Welsh Green or a Hebridean Bog Striker?"

Severus shrugged again, "Given that he must have acquired the egg on the black market, I'm not certain he knew the breed, or would have turned down the deal based on that alone. Also I'm certain that we're all thankful that he did not get a black/bog striker, while I don't wish to be bit or roasted by such a beast, and I don't have all that much reason to go into the forbidden forest, I'd rather see it coming and have time to draw and stand, or flee. Not be bitten unawares by a beast sunk into the ground and waiting in ambush."

"Yes, quite," said Narcissa, "It was just a thought. … this seems quite enough for a year or two, what else do I need to be aware of?"

Severus snorted, "I won't pretend that I know everything that's going on… but I know that the current crop of fourth to first years seems the most nosy yet. If you have secrets, don't bring them on school grounds. It's a different problem than the violent house rivalries that we've had up until perhaps two or three years ago, and still have from time to time. The worst snoops are the Patil twins, Neville is Parvati's tag-along and research assistant, Luna Lovegood … provides some sort of moral support for Padma, though their rolls aren't as well defined as some of the other duos and trios that are active from time to time, which seems to be whenever something fishy crosses their paths. The worst offenders might be the lazy and bigoted Ron Weasley: ex-baby of his pureblood / blood traitor family and Hermione Granger muggleborn and only child and eternal critic and bookworm, they are suspicious of opposite groups of people and information sources, they snip at each other constantly, luckily they don't spend much time around each other _except _when something big enough draws and holds both of their attention. I doubt we can imagine how much trouble they'd get into if someone… perhaps a pupil with a background like mine had brought them together and kept them together, constantly arguing and looking for proof sufficient to convince the other."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

"Luckily Ron has found Pansy Parkinson, another pureblood and someone who he'd much rather argue with, and who likes to lose, but only when it gains her something more practical than a mere ego trip. Likewise Hermione's closest peer seems for the moment to be Blaise Zabini, who she treats as an information resource and a confidant, I have no idea how they manage to _not_ argue, given how Hermione acts with everyone else, but I've never caught them at it. Draco and Matirni you are already aware of, though the things they tend to investigate aren't … the secrets that lend themselves to blackmail or interrupting strategic power plays on the cusp of their going off perfectly, more like … well …"

Narcissa nodded, "yes, my other interview this evening was with Heir Potter regarding whether I'd condescend to do him the favours of, petitioning for his guardianship, supporting his emancipation, and supporting his resumption of his house seat."

"Do you plan to?"

"Draco thinks I should," said Narcissa, "He seems to think that if I manage that, and clear away some other obstacle that is not yet clear to either of us, Dumbledore will give up and retire from the game, or at least from trying to maintain control of Hogwarts."

"Hmm," said Severus, "I wouldn't be surprised if he would rather give up his role as Chief Warlock or Supreme Mugwump."

"How do we stop _that_?"

Severus shrugged, "make the rule against triple commitments binding on your office as well, include seats on external committees, or by maximum hours a month those commitments may require, even if it blocks you from voting your position on the Board of Governors."

"Augusta would love _that,_ we can barely get Smith to show up as it is, imagine if his position is effectively null, his best defence against our reforms will be not showing up to remove our quorum."

"Can you convince him to proxy his seat out before he gets the idea that staying away could get him better results than showing up?"

"Who would we offer it to?"

"If rumours are to be believed, your best option might be, if you can finagle the rules so that Smith's seat lapses if he refuses to show up too many times in a row, his child-of-engagement Sally-Ann Perks could claim the seat and let her mother vote it."

"And what would we gain by committing this farce?"

"A woman scorned and all that, even though Smith's choices twelve years ago were supposedly dictated by previous family obligations unexpectedly falling to him to fulfil."

"Hmm," said Narcissa, "I shall have that investigated," _I don't have nearly enough blackmail material on him. No one seems to._

"Your other option might be to give him a limited proxy, such that he can vote your position according to his conscience when you don't give him specific instructions."

"Clever," said Narcissa, "it's risky but it could work,"

"Or of course, if you could buy or rent his position for a year or two, long enough to keep everything functioning smoothly and moving ahead until Dumbledore manages to talk his way back into this office."

"Or rather if Agusta and I could agree which of our allies it could be rented by."

"If his vote is irrelevant at the moment does it matter who rents it?"

"Point,"

…

"Is this all the school related business?" said Severus.

"To my knowledge," said Narcissa, "would you mind taking Mr. Riddle under your wing, if he thought you prime material for a confidant before, he may again."

"And what do you expect me to do with him once he's under my wing?"

"Mr. Snape," said Narcissa, "He once took it upon himself to represent the most powerful of the disenfranchised in our society, promising to make their changes for them, if they would but support his rise to power. He may try something similar this generation, though he may not know it yet. On the other hand just this evening, Lord Potter expressed similar concerns, but his first concern is that a muggleborn or a first generation half blood has no legal path to franchise and power, and therefore no logical reason to foster patriotism, or even stay in the realm. Meanwhile the whelps of old pureblood families who show no initiative and no studious concern for the great traditions of our society are yet allowed more than equal control of that society. He wishes to implement a set of tiered status requirements that have less to do with blood status and more to do with passing history tests and giving oaths for the continuation and betterment of our society."

"And you've made Riddle a pureblood,"

"I have."

"You want me to organise the two of them under Draco's tutelage."

Narcissa grinned, "Nominally it will be under your own, but I want them to notice that Draco knows the current way of things, and that Potter's habit of taking everyone's part predisposes him to know how they will act much more acutely than anyone _I've_ ever met, _especially _by age 12."

"Hmm," said Severus, "So this is less a case of tickling a sleeping dragon, but of _harnessing_ one that is already known to be drowsing towards alertness."

"I think we understand the power we are lucky enough, or unlucky enough to be standing near. The only other responsible option is destroying him before he finds a wand."

"Oh rest assured, he's probably already found one, even if it's just rented from from a Hufflepuff for the week."

Narcissa shivered, "Point,"

**Department of Mysteries**

"Rookwood is that you?"

_Yes, but who's asking? _Thought Rookwood, and turned around to see a familiar face. "Ah, Lady Malfoy, what brings you here?"

"I didn't know you worked here."

"You're not supposed to."

"Do I need to forget it, or just not air it about."

"Your discretion will keep me and our nations secrets safer, but … well I like to think I can take care of myself regardless."

"Don't we all," said Nacissa, "actually dealing with you might be easier on my nerves than dealing with a completely unknown quantity,"

"Ah," he said, she did look a bit on the frazzled side, but then, that was to be expected with her workload suddenly doubling last summer and then increasing again when she took up the burden of running Hogwarts. "Let me ask again," he said, "What brings you here?"

"Oh," she said, "right. Is there somewhere a bit more private?"

"For your benefit or mine," he said.

"I need a lot of advice," she said, "and someone to do some research, I assume that if this isn't your area of expertise you'll make me repeat the important bits to one of your colleagues. But the first retelling might … consist of a lot of … a confessional nature."

He sighed, _he was so not going to be getting anything else done this morning. _"Lets adjourn to my office then,"

"Thank you,"

...

"So what's this all about?"

"Suppose a Dark Lord and a suspected Dark Lady from a millennium apart showed up on your doorstep, what would you do?"

"It might depend on the Lord and Lady in question."

"My first concern with the suspected Dark Lady, is that she not bring down the castle on the Dark Lord should she take it into her mind to do him in."

"They're at Hogwarts?"

"They are at Hogwarts, I seem to have traded basilisk problems for … for what I have now."

"Basilisk! I heard about … alright, Basilisk fits too. You say it's taken care of?"

"It's returned to its normal routines and all relevant parties have promised to stop encouraging it to come into the inhabited parts of the school."

"Dare I ask?"

"Her name is Amelia, apparently. And rumour states she's been there since before Salazar left."

"So she _can _keep to herself, and you have reason to hope that she will continue to do so?"

"Exactly, if we could be getting back to—"

"So Slitherin's monster is not an acromantula?"

"Why would it be an acromantula, what have acromantulas got to do with anything?"

"Hagrid's wand was snapped for releasing slytherin's monster, when he was caught with an acromantula much too small to be 800 years old. But the implication was that there might be a nest of them somewhere where he'd harvested that one."

"Hagrid doesn't 'harvest,' that isn't the way he thinks, 'adopts' is more likely."

"Be that as it may, are you going to push for a new trial?"

"I suppose someone should," said Narcissa, "Something else to add to my to do list."

"Yes, quite," said Rookwood, "alright back to your dark wizard infestation."

Narcissa sighed, "You're a last generation half-blood right?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I … thought you were an associates of my sister's family in the last war, not that you took part in it, just that you…"

"I did have sympathies for the traditional property rights movement,"

Narcissa nodded, "So did I, and for my sister and cousin, of course,"

"Of course,"

"I won't say I was distraught when the madder element disappeared from the scene, it was very comfortable growing up to believe that it is one's hereditary honour to be one of the most powerful witches and in a family with one of the most powerful group of connections. Dumbledore was an aberration that could be ignored, but when another first generation half-blood wizard appeared on the scene and proved to be more powerful than the Black family average, it … disturbed my world view."

"I understand how that could be." Rookwood was catching the drift of this eminently disavowable conversation. But the information he'd gotten so far was that the last dark lord was a half-blood. He'd never been able to determine that, but a pureblood on the order of a native daughter of Black or Abbot ought to have been able to catch a pretender short, it was also evident that she'd had the foresight not to call him on it to his face.

"It was something of a relief when he disappeared," continued Narcissa, "even if that didn't actually change the fact that his mere presence had destroyed my preconceptions."

"You're getting to the point much too slowly," said Rookwood.

"The point is this," said Narcissa, "what would you do if he, or another dark wizard of similar infamy came back, not as he was portrayed when he was last seen, but in a sixteen-year-old body."

"Ageing like Merlin?" said Rookwood, "that would be a find indeed, if … if the specimen in question weren't inherently dangerous to examine, and the inherent possibility that he might not remember the process by which the effect was created."

"Quite,"

"One question before we go on," said Rookwood, "ageing like Merlin, or resurrected from a younger version of himself, or summoned from an alternate universe in which he was not yet aged?"

"What differences would those make?"

"Ageing like Merlin, if he's sixteen he may only have sixteen years left, it would be best to let him be and humour him for the last of his days."

"Ah," said Narcissa.

"But I'd test that carefully before I put too much stock in it, he may remember enough to be dangerous even if he's rapidly losing his body and core."

"Understood," said Narcissa.

"Next, summoned, for that you need quite an elaborate ceremony, I'm sure you have plenty of sixth and seventh years capable of carrying out such a ceremony if they could find instruction and accumulate the supplies and power, they might need to make it much more elaborate or balance in many more participants because they don't have the raw strength to power it themselves,"

"Or find potion based or sacrificial sub-rituals to do the same. Or tap into the aquifers."

"The what?"

"Rivers of magic, those of several elements converge at or near Hogwarts."

Rookwood smiled, "Opesflumin, "

"I thought that was the path between my spine and my wand,"

"That's Opesvena, but they might amount to the same thing, if you don't mind casting Gaia as a magical being. After Christianity cast out the old gods, it became popular to pretend that our power and our ability to wield it represents a relationship to magic herself, not to the planet, and communicating with her or worshipping her could aid in gaining power or insight. Now that it is becoming more scholarly to pretend that magic is a force of nature with formulas as impersonal as gravity or magnetism and to pretend that Great Britain has more to do with her commonwealth than to her continent, it is becoming popular to call the old opesflumin by the new English phrase 'lea lines'. The … insight provided by the new concept is perhaps academically interesting, but the practical truth is they behave exactly as before, and neither concept provides quite the correct intuitive explanation."

"I followed all that except the bit about magnatism, I never could understand what the fuss was about, a point me spell is infinitely more useful than a compass."

"What?"

"So far as I could tell magnets are the most complex and unintuitive artefacts I've ever tried to make sense of."

Rookwood blinked at her, "With all due respect to your intellect, you are probably powerful enough that your magic disrupted their function, Have you heard the rumour that muggle electronics don't work around magic?"

"Of course, are you going to tell me that it's wrong?"

"Not wrong, just a bad approximation and getting worse. It's not electricity that doesn't work around magic, it's magnetism. Muggles have known for years about the connection between magnetism and their favourite fraction of elementary power: electricity. They are only beginning to explore the connection and relationship between magnetism and what they call the 'weak force.' And are annoyed that they can't find the connection from there through the strong force to magic to gravity. Wizards have of course been working from the opposite direction, starting with magic we've explored 'downward' to mass and gravity with hover and motion charms of all types, and 'upward' to strong and weak forces, giving us alchemy and transfiguration, there have been a few attempts to control magnetism or electricity directly, but magic is much better suited to controlling mass, and alchemy directly, and let the electron cloud follow as it may."

"Hmm," said Narcissa.

He thought about what he'd said, he was getting off topic again, "What I meant to say is that they're starting to replace the magnetic parts of their electronics with crystals. Similarly, we're starting to learn how replace magical parts of our rune arrays with muggle parts, and we're having much better success using their techniques to interact with … everything except magnetism. Of course shielding is possible but iron is such an annoying material to work with, but enough about my work, let's get back to yours. The hypothetical cabal of sixth years could have used lea lines to power their summoning ritual."

"Right," said Narcissa.

"Of course," said Rookwood, "It even makes sense that sixth years might have easily made the mistake of summoning their favourite dark lord of history when he was their own age, rather than at the age he might need to be to carry out whatever they were hoping to accomplish,"

"That sounds like an amusing thing to watch happen in someone else's reality," smirked Narcissa, "or hand off to a ghost writer in hopes that a cautionary play will come next season, but that doesn't sound like what happened here."

He nodded.

"So the next possibility you mentioned: What do you mean by 'resurrection'?"

"There are theoretically several means," said Rookwood, "all of them difficult enough to test _precisely because_ it requires the sacrifice of the researcher,"

"But if we have a known successful case, we might be able to determine which was used?" suggested Narcissa.

"Precisely," said Rookwood, "and if we know he was restored not as he was before death but at an age when he might have conducted his preparations, that narrows the possibilities significantly."

"That sounds … unutterably lucky for our investigation,"

"Quite." Rookwood steepled his fingers, "So several possibilities, is or was he known to have a high tolerance for pain or to age quickly but never actually die of old age?"

"No, neither of those. Though perhaps he was killed rather before old age should have set in."

"Alright, hmm always ready to sacrifice someone else even those he perceived as high value, if it were necessary to achieve his goals?"

"Yes, definitely yes,"

"Ah! Was there small to medium sized artefact associated with the resurrection ceremony?"

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, "perhaps."

"Was it possible or rumoured to be possible for the artefact to communicate or interact with users or victims in an unusually … sentient way."

"I think, yes,"

"Alright, we're almost certainly dealing with a—" _soul jar, horcrux, soul anchor._

"That bad?" said Narcissa.

Rookwood shrugged.

"So what's next?"

Rookwood sat back and stared at her.

"That wizard is now in two pieces, you have the sixteen year old piece. There is another piece that is the normal age lurking around somewhere, perhaps in wraith form, waiting to possess someone, perhaps possessing someone, perhaps in a gollum or collection of gollums, or if he's lucky in a magos, or the victim of a dementor's kiss. The point is, you can't get rid of just one by the normal methods of killing them, you must get rid of all of them as simultaneously as possible, or it doesn't really take."

"What is a magos?"

"A flesh gollum, specificaly built from the flesh of a creature or creatures capable of anchoring a magical core for the use of the soul or fraction of soul that it is host to,"

"Ew," said Narcissa.

"Actually, when done carefully and with an eye for such things it is said that they can be quite beautiful," corrected Rookwood, "but that is hardly the point,"

"Then what _is _the point?"

"That depends on the Dark Wizard in question and whether you intend to destroy both halves, or try to tame the sixteen year old fraction that you have, in hopes that he'll be obliging and help you with something, some task worth the risk of keeping him around in anything less confining than a stasis array. Also whether out of self defence he will kill and absorb the other fractions of his soul to keep them out of your way."

"What do you suggest?"

"It's your decision, but hmm sixteen year olds are notoriously hard to train or tame, especially those who already have a murder under their belt."

"Murder?"

"A necessary part of the ritual to create the artefact is sacrificing a thing so valuable to the necromancer that his or her soul splits at it's revulsion of the act. Murder especially cold blooded murder is the iconic act, but others are rumoured possible, a favourite pet, a best friend's familiar. Even oneself in a few odd cases."

He thought she was going to say, "Oh, dear." And wait for him to sooth her.

Instead she said, "What if the same item was used for both of them."

"Both of what?"

"Also used for the Dark Lady."

"That's highly unusual, unless it's a large object. Is…"

"I wouldn't have called it particularly large, I think it was Ravenclaw's Diadem."

Rookwood stared at her speechless.

"All of them who put it on, described it as … bigger on the inside, and splitting their focus to a large barren landscape capable of holding many many libraries, though I wasn't certain that what they were calling libraries were what you or I would call libraries. The … resurrected lady described her … splitting as an accident from having the diadem taken off her head too quickly."

Items of power, he'd never dreamed that the techniques for crafting them had been rediscovered as late as the time of the founders. But to have an item that could hold multiple soul fragments _and _not entangle them. And fracture the soul to start with, that might be was the worst part.

"Lady Malfoy, I implore you to gain control of that artefact and bring it here. It _must not _be allowed to fall into the wrong hands or damage any more unwary pupils."

Narcissa had the honesty to flinch before she gave a brief nod.

"And it should go without saying," finished Rookwood, "_don't _put it on."

"Ah," she said, and flinched again.

**{End Chapter 9}**

A/N: First off: thanks all for the reviews, you make me feel apreciated.

Thanks to the naturalist who pointed out that since it's displacement from the Scottish mainland the bog striker is now more commonly known as the Hebridean black.

Second: this is all the Narcissa POV for a while, sadly. But this also means you get to look forward to other POV's again. Next is up Harriet.

Third: this should be in a story:

3w's [period] atlasobscura [period] com[slash]places[slash]witches-weigh-house

Because.

That is all.

Bregalad out.


	33. 2-10: Meeting

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Meeting**

"Miss Matirni," said Draco abruptly in an odd tone, too commanding… too serious to be a spell, just plaintive enough to take the sting out of it.

"Huh?" said Harriet putting her book down, "What's wrong?"

"Would you be willing to…" he looked back the way he had come.

Harriet tracked his gaze and saw Padma glaring at both of them, though her eyes were widening in an oddly wistful way. _Merlin, what was this going to be about? She'd heard rumours about Padma being the intended sacrifice referred to by the last chicken-blood taunt. _No one presented any proof, but Harriet was alert enough to notice that Padma had … resumed the schedule of a normal pupil, but seemed no less withdrawn than she had when she was hiding … whatever her investigations had been… or her abusive relationship … _wait that fit better than anything Harriet had suspected. _Why had she thought of it all of a sudden? The haunted look in her eyes maybe.

"Should I just come and you can tell me about it when we're in a more secure location?"

"That would be much preferable," said Draco, "Thanks immeasurably," and he took a step back and waited patiently while she packed her homework.

_No problem_, thought Harriet, _No, I can't say that until I know what the real request is._

"So far this isn't costing you a huge favour," said Harriet, to implying it might be costing him a small one, though probably only if it took long enough to interfere with her revisions.

Draco winced a tiny amount and nodded. Then led the way to where Padma lingered just inside the door to the slytherin common room.

When they were close she turned and went out. Then led the way to second floor and into an unused wing until they reached an unused classroom. Once inside Draco performed all the reasonable privacy charms except those that would actually lock the door. Then he said, "Miss Matirni, Padma and I have several important things to discuss, would you mind watching us talk."

"Is there a reason why I should mind?"

"It might get boring to watch," said Draco, "I intend to put up silencing charms between you and us. You're responsibilities would be to be able to witness the fact that we didn't do anything inappropriate with each other."

Harriet looked at Padma who gave the minutest nod.

"I understand," said Harriet, "But why not do the same thing in a corner of the common room? Or the study room?"

He ticked off on his fingers, "Disillusionment is possible, reading lips is possible, animagi can have the forms of very small animals, it wouldn't be a huge stretch to imagine some of the older pupils might just happen to have those sorts of abilities. This way we can lock the door and check for those sorts of problems ahead of time, then relax and discuss what we need to discuss." _And we both know how to disillusion. And I can read lips._

"I think I see," said Harriet she glanced at Padma again, who nodded again.

"Alright," said Harriet, "go ahead,"

Draco sent a locking charm at the door, then cast several more charms, several of which were selective revealing charms, none of them brought attention to anything but the three of them. Then he retreated halfway down the room and began anchoring a silencing charm to strategic points around the smallest cross section of the classroom then retreated another two paces and seemed to scream at her very slowly. "Can you hear me?" mouthed his lips.

Harriet had the foresight to look a bit puzzled before shaking her head. Then setting off the cannon-blast charm which Hermione had taught her.

Draco stuck his head through the barrier to ask what _that _had been. She told him. He grinned and pulled his head back through and told Padma. She smirked and gave a thumbs up. They pulled up chairs. Padma got out parchment and ink.

Draco seemed to tell her that such would not be necessary. She didn't put them away but turned her attention away from them.

_So much for an ability to lip read if both of them were looking parallel to me not at me. Oh well, might as well be comfortable._

She transfigured one of the old desk chairs to be a comfortable recliner and relaxed.

...

The second time Draco stared at her to see if she was still awake she got out her last box of Harbio cola chews, to give her fingers and mouth something to do. She'd written the company several times asking them to consider adding a treacle flavor but so far she had received no response.

When she looked up again Padma was looking half way at her seemed to be saying, "What about Harry?"

Draco glanced her way also and seemed to say, "I respect Harry too much. Also—" his head turned back to Padma.

_Hmm._

"What do you mean?" said Padma.

Draco glanced at Harriet again, and seemed to be describing some hypothetical involving Heir Potter.

_Surely he wasn't sharing her secret._

Padma stood up and yelled at him, for the third time.

Draco waited patiently for her to finish before replying. Unlike the previous time he didn't yell back or try to interrupt.

Once he was done explaining for several more seconds. They talked for another three of four minutes before Padma stood again and turned to face the door and said something about, "Pansy's attitude proving what she was," before she started to march toward the door.

Draco stood and said something that seemed to be an agreement. And Padma stopped and waited for him to finish, though she didn't turn back around.

Padam's next statement seemed to be about, "cheep whores, compared to respectable mistresses, compared to very expensive—" some word that seemed to twist Padma's expression with the same disgust as 'whores' but with all the respect and more of 'mistresses'."

Draco sat back down, muttered something.

Padma turned back to him and all the indignation went out of her.

She tilted her head slightly and said something, that seemed to please him immensely. For being clever, not for giving him what he wanted.

Padma returned to her seat, and they talked for quite a while longer.

...

Finally they agreed that they were done and got up. After almost two minutes more Draco turned and began dismantling his silencing wall.

Padma kept talking about, apparently an herbology assignment. Harriet put her candy aside and sat up to untransfigure her chair.

Draco's response to Padma seemed to be a hint that Draco had already completed that essay and wasn't willing to let Padma copy from his until she'd done the reading herself. Which was almost certainly not what Padma had been asking for.

"I was wondering where to find that information also," said Harriet

They both jumped, then glanced at Draco's progress with the silencing barrier.

Then Draco looked at Harriet and seemed to be rewinding memories to be able to answer her. He turned to Padma and after a nod, told her what book he'd found the herbology information in.

Padma thanked him, a tiny bit tightly.

"So," said Harriet, wanting to change the subject and bringing up the first thing of the top of her head that she was curious about, "What was the middle part of that conversation about?"

They both stared at her. Then she remembered how agitated both of them had gotten and realised that for a 'change of subject to make everything less awkward' it was almost certainly a change in the wrong direction. _Damn._

To her surprise it was Padma who answered, "Are you aware that among certain castes in Britain and India there are," Padma cleared her throat, "marriages arranged for reasons other than love?"

"Vaguely," said Harriet, "My grandfather made his sons draw lots and sent them after my Mum."

Padma blinked, "That explains a lot,"

"Huh?"

"It explains why all your uncles think he's creepy as hell and try to keep him away from their kids, at least when they can't be around to watch him."

"Oh," Harriet shrugged, "when Mum found out she … took it as a complement, though she and Da were already quite in love."

Draco cleared his throat, "no doubt it _was_ a complement, but well … attempts to arrange marriages can be high complements about one's general fitness or a perception of general compatibility, or they can merely be high complements about a single trait that the matchmaker believes is worth breeding for. Or they can be an indication of _disrespect _for both parties, if the point is to ally two houses and the two least useful offspring, or merely the two earliest available offspring, are sacrificed to the need."

"Well yeah," said Harriet, "then there's the whole deal where the matchmaker decides and doesn't really allow for the people in question to have an opinion on the subject."

Draco cleared his throat again, "which becomes much more of a problem when either or both of the families have fewer children to 'sacrifice' to the cause."

Padma winced and stared at Draco, "Which is why you were already on the lookout for anyone you could point your parents at before you even came to school?"

Draco nodded, "I think I'd prefer if more of the families went by the strategy used by the House of Black, who believed in lots of children and lots of alliances. It mostly paid off except that last generation all those female children married to all those lords all are thinking, 'my eldest son could be Lord Black, if the rightful Lord Black is kept locked away and never produces an Heir.' To _that_ I say, 'don't be surprised if he gets out and the first thing he does is burn half of them and their male sons out of the family tree'."

Padma shivered, "Including you?"

Draco shrugged, "Malfoy inheritance rules are intentionally flexible, Dad could have let me inherit the Malfoy title and force other titles inherited through Mom to fall to later children. I wouldn't be surprised if he planned to use a stated intention to do such, and the fact that he put off having additional children, as proof of no attempt to take advantage of Lord Black being held incommunicado. All it cost was any chance for me to have younger siblings."

Harriet was surprised he could talk like that without looking sad.

He sighed heavily, "why did this come up again."

Padma turned to Harriet and narrowed her eyes a comical amount, "Harriet wanted to know what we were discussing when we gestured at her," then she turned to Harriet, "In those same castes where arranged marriage is most common, it is also somewhat common for spouses or even prospective spouses to have agreements about philandering, Draco did me the paired honour and dishonour of asking if I wanted there to be such an agreement between us. I said I hadn't considered it. He then offered me the honour of being the one to pick out his mistresses, _if_ we should add such an agreement to our contract."

"Oh," said Harriet.

"Extreme simplification," coughed Draco behind his hand.

Given the subject matter, it was entirely within character for Draco to have a very nuanced position, and Padma to simplify it drastically for the great unwashed. Harriet suddenly hoped that Padma simplifying was proof that Padma was too impatient to repeat their entire conversation to Harriet, (something that wasn't any of Harriet's business) and not evidence that Padma was less the match that Draco thought she was.

"And so I came up as a hypothetical?" said Harriet.

They Draco nodded, "I assure you that I don't think of you that way, I—"

Padma winced.

"What?" said Draco.

"She's just about the only relationship of yours that I feel the least bit jealous about," Padma said, "though _that's _assuming you never stray farther than we agree on before hand."

Draco sighed, "She's my second cousin, _and_ others could too easily insinuate that she's under my influence as her sponsor surrogate."

"No," said Padma, "I looked, she's no blood relation to you."

Draco froze.

"Furthermore, I don't believe there is _any _Harry Potter, no mater how many times this invented person is interposed as an excuse for the two of you to act related."

"Harry Potter _does _exist," said Harriet.

"My mother said—" exclaimed Padma.

"Your mother is under oath to conceal what happened to him," said Harriet, "As are Draco and I."

Padma froze.

"Nevertheless," continued Harriet, "we are extremely close, and if you learn occlumency before the summer, I think Harry would like to meet you."

"Oh." The fight went out of Padma, but she didn't exactly un-tense, at all. "Alright."

Draco gave Harriet a quizzical glance.

Padma turned again to Draco, "so your hypothetical reference to Heir Potter, wasn't so far fetched as I'd assumed."

Draco shrugged.

"I mean, you're jealous of him in general, and would be jealous of me … if I were to be his mistress?"

Draco blinked, "This is really awkward to talk about with Harriet here," said Draco, "not because… Ugh, alright, just so you know, most of the slitherins who take the time to speculate, speculate that Potter and Matirni either _are _engaged or _will be _each other's first dalliance."

Padma looked at Harriet.

"Yes," confirmed Harriet, "people have already spoken to me of plans they are making based on the assumption that one or the other of those is true, or is already true."

"And do you correct them?" said Padma with a suppressed smirk that made Harriet think it was an attempt to fish for information. Or romantic gossip more likely.

Harriet didn't really want to give her any more information, especially because it might be hard to say anything that wasn't partly a lie. On the other hand Harriet knew the exact rumours that were going around slytherin about someone practising blood magic and several of the upper years stating that they had significantly less to fear since the weren't virgins and so their blood was less valuable.

Harriet had taken the rumours with the proverbial grain of salt, she'd read a large portion of the restricted section on defence, there were plenty of things she was paranoid about, but that wasn't one of them.

Most blood magic was family related and useless without a close family connection. For that virginity didn't matter. Most of the rest seemed to be designed so that squibs could borrow the power of a full witch or wizard, for that virginity didn't matter, just the power of the magical core of the being who's blood was taken. There were a few in which a virgin was sacrificed in order to absorb the as yet undeveloped magical core. Once accidental magic started occurring at about age 5 to 8 years of age it was almost too late for the ritual to occur, and in that situation 'virginity' referred to the magical core not yet binding to the conscious mind of the child, sexuality had nothing to do with it.

The only blood magic Harriet had come across that she would want to actively defend against was a potion and ritual that made the drinker's words have a continuing controlling effect on the blood donor. Virginity didn't have anything to do with that ritual either. Instead she guessed that a quarter of the vampire stories she'd heard implied the use of that ritual. Because it only worked once per victim, the clearest path to immunity was making the potion with one's own blood and drinking it oneself or feeding it to a disposable animal before killing it. But the ingredients were expensive, and hawks don't bring random extra mice home the way owls and cats were supposed to, so she didn't exactly have an extra mouse around to sacrifice.

So she'd figured that the rumours were either total bullshit, aired for an excuse to brag about one's conquests, or to make a paranoid classmate easier to lure into bed. Or somewhere between the two, they might be an information gathering technique specifically designed to elicit _exactly _the sort of bragging that was going on.

On the other hand, if Draco was concerned, perhaps … the defence section might not be the best place to run across information on potions. And the relevant information might in fact be in the non-restricted section.

"I've told them to mind their own business, or that our relationship is not based on romance."

Padma nodded.

Harriet had been planning on adding, _But in fact my only experience with male sexuality was alone with Heir Potter_, but she couldn't bring herself to say it, because… it was intentionally deceptive… and because Draco would laugh.

The moment passed. Padma turned to Draco, "why did you even bring that up?"

"Someday," said Draco, "when you've met Heir Potter, and we are all social equals enough for neither of our different rules of honour are impinged by making such an offer to him, or to Matirni, I want you to take careful consideration whether inviting one over for a dalliance, is intended to imply making the mirror image offer to the other."

Padma shook her head as if to clear it. "You're saying that it's not a jealousy issue for you."

"Correct," said Draco, "It's about about showing mutual respect to allies. Heir Potter happens to be a special case, as does Harriet."

"Special case how?" said Padma.

Draco sighed and stared at Harriet.

"If everything goes well, it will all come out this summer," said Harriet, "Or at least it will be safe to explain to friends,"

Draco nodded, "alright the complicated part can wait until then, the simple part though," Draco frowned and returned his gaze to Padma, "Compared to Matirni, Potter is _very _lonely,"

Padma flinched and looked at Harriet. Harriet wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Potter has hugged me about as many times as I've met him."

"Oh?" said Padma.

"I think he may be the only one other than my mother who's made so free with my person,"

"What?" said Padma.

"He hugs," said Draco, "it makes me feel hufflepuffish, very odd. But perhaps that is what he's aiming for."

"I think," said Harriet, "you are the only person in the wizarding world for whom he feels hufflepuffish,"

"Hmm," said Draco, "Odd, I figured him for…"

"Draco," said Harriet, "I'm fairly sure he feels gryffindorish for all _my _friends,"

"Umm ew?" said Draco.

"I mean he … gets _very _protective of those he has chosen to feel protective of, I have to be somewhat careful to phrase my requests for help in such a way that the most trouble he can get into is writing letters on my behalf, not popping up and hexing people."

"Oh," said Draco, "Oh dear."

"What's wrong with that?" said Padma.

"It's not the protectiveness that's the problem," said Draco, "nor that he extends it to Harriet's allies in addition to his own. It's the … violence he's willing to deal out in response to threats, especially before expending the amount of time needed to plan thoroughly."

"Ah, I get it," said Padma.

They were silent for several seconds.

"The point is," said Draco, "Mum has offered to let Potter and/or Harriet visit for most of the summer to join my training sessions with Mr. Crabbe, or read in the library, et cetera. Basically see what its like to live in a properly kept pureblood manor."

"And what it takes to run one," said Harriet.

"So I should invite myself along?" said Padma.

Draco blinked, "I suppose you might, but my point was, I don't expect Potter to _stop _hugging me. And without my peers and the slytherin politics audience to perform for, and with the understanding that Potter is nominally around to chaperone … I expect Matirni won't work so hard to restrain herself."

Padma raised an eyebrow, but couldn't seem to decide which of them to stare her questions at. Until her gaze settled on Harriet's cheek. And she leaned closer to inspect.

_What?_

Harriet blinked the fog away and a tear dislodged.

She bet her lip and turned away.

"What?" said Padma stalking up behind her, "what's wrong?"

"I'm _not _homesick!" said Harriet.

Draco muffled a giggle.

Padma must have spun and glared at him, a second later Padma was much closer and covering the wringing of her hands by hiding them in the folds of her robes.

Which just meant she was wringing wrinkles into her robes.

"I'm not homesick," Harriet repeated, "I'm … hug sick, or something,"

"Yes, of course you are," said Padma and hugged her awkwardly. And from the side. And with her hands stuck.

Harriet was fairly sure it was the first time either of the Patil sisters had deigned to touch her in a way that was neither acrobatic, choreographed, nor confrontational.

After Harriet was sure she was done being irritated that Padma would … feel the need to put herself out in such a way, and after the lump had mostly subsided from her throat she got a hold of Padma's wrists well enough to loosen them and turn around. Then before Padma could misinterpret the motion she returned the hug. "Thanks, Padma,"

"Whoa, deja vu," said Padma.

"What?" said Harriet and Draco together.

"Luna," said Padma, "Luna … probably needs hugs as much as you do, and she doesn't have a mum at home to help with that. At home she has Ginnevra Weasley next door, but here I think I'm the only one she sees anywhere near often enough to keep her … even _borderline_ satisfied. And I have a disturbing sense that her relationship with Ginnevra Weasley may not pick up where it left off when they get home."

"When she's not pouting, Ginnevra is a marble statue," said Draco, "or a flaming spear of wrath."

Padma turned to glare at him.

"Stone cold, I mean," said Draco, "not particularly a work of art. And given the pouting, even Daphne is easier to be around."

"Oh," said Padma, and gave a tiny squeeze before she let go of Harriet, "lets go find supper."

So they did.

**{End Chapter 10}**


	34. 2-11: Winter Hols - Part 1

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Christmas Express**

"What are you reading?" said Draco.

"A letter from your Mum," said Harriet.

"Anything interesting?" said Draco.

"Don't read her mail," scolded Padma.

"I'm not," said Draco, "I'm sitting way over here and showing polite interest in my friend's correspondence."

"She wants me to come over as soon as possible, she wants to introduce me to several people in London and Godric's Hollow."

"Potter's solicitors?"

"That's my first guess given my last conversation with her. Potter is invited also, if he's available."

"Of course," said Draco.

"Is he likely to be?" said Padma.

"Not sure yet," said Harriet, "I'll have to find out what this is about and what's planned at home, etc."

"Of course," said Padma, and sniffed delicately, then she got out a book.

Draco's eyebrows relaxed and he glanced at Padma admiringly.

...

"I'm going to go track down the two stooges and see if I owe reparations on their incompetence," said Draco some time later.

"Who?" said Padma without looking up.

"The illustrious Crabbe and the illusory Goyle," said Draco and stepped out into the corridor.

"Oh," said Padma.

As soon as the door was shut and Draco's shadow was not on the glass, Padma looked up from her book, "Is there anything we need to discuss?"

"Not to my knowledge," said Harriet, "or … not that I am at liberty to discuss before Lady Malfoy's and my plans on (and through) Heir Potter have come to fruition or failed utterly."

"Ah!" said Padma, "good luck with that."

"Thanks, we may need it," said Harriet, "are you willing to cover for me at home?"

"In what way?" said Padma.

"I hate to sneak out, but … I'm more willing to ask my parents' forgiveness than disobey a direct refusal of permission."

"How much time are you talking about being gone?" said Padma.

"No idea, probably a long morning, I don't think it will be the whole afternoon."

"Alright," said Padma, "Do you want me to 'invite you over for some revising' and then neglect to mention when you don't show up, or leave early?"

"That might be best," said Harriet.

"How are you travelling?"

"I have what is called an 'anchored portkey,' I'm supposed to put this end under my pillow or some equally private place, and hold this piece while I activate it with the password, then activate it with the other password to come back."

"Sounds terribly convenient, how much do you suppose they cost?"

"I'm certain that this set costs more than necessary given it appears to be a ring and a set self sizing bracelets,"

Padma nodded, "though if I were designing something like that, I'd almost certainly use a piece of jewellery for the portkey also."

"Good point,"

...

"You're worried about something," said Padma.

"I was expecting these plans to be attempted over the summer, not over Christmas hols. I guess if you know the schedule or hours of business of every single place we need to visit the time line can be compressed drastically but…"

"You're expecting a whirlwind tour so wild and woolly that there might not be enough time to read contracts?"

"Precisely," said Harriet.

"I'd be careful with that," said Padma, "if there had been a chance I'd have recommended you ask for three weeks to study copies of said contracts,"

"Yeah, I know," said Harriet.

...

Draco came back with Theodore Nott and they discussed politics that had nothing to do with Potter, or the ministry, or any of the Black family.

Harriet didn't know that was possible. At first she thought it was about society gossip and invitations to Christmas parties, and who had accepted from who, but gradually it dawned on her that there were at least two layers of subtext below that. A couple times she caught Padma look up from her book and stare into space for a minute or two.

Harriet wondered if Padma were coming to the same realisations that she was, or if she were hearing different things entirely. Or if she'd long ago come to the same conclusions and hence was better armed to follow what the conversation was _really _about.

...

**Whorlwind tour**

As the morning drew on, Harry Potter, Heir of Potter, found himself in the odd position of being immensely bored with shopping, and yet interested in seeing _in action_, the code that spelled out in the cut of his new suit-in-progress, where anyone could see it (though most would not be able to read,) his exact status as nearly as Lady Malfoy could encode it.

To make matters more complex he found that he was trying to balance his actions to humour the perfectionism of Lady Malfoy, his first cousin once removed, and the universal interests in all things drama and projection of Harriet Matirni, his supposed first cousin and alternate persona, as well as the somewhat bewildered interest of the man who according to report was _The Tailor_ worth going to in Trowbridge. Who, if Harry didn't miss his guess, had more than passing familiarity with the code, but couldn't read anything as complex as what Lady Malfoy intended to convey.

When Lady Malfoy was satisfied that the tailor could finish the required alterations unsupervised she apparated them to Madam Malkin's for a set of dress robes that would complement his figure (or lack of one, yet) and not highlight too badly that he was somewhat undersized.

That didn't take nearly so long, apparently all those animated measuring robes and things were worth something, though it made Harry wonder what had been on Draco's shopping list the first time she'd met him that had caused Draco to need to stand almost still for what had seemed like hours on end. When Harry mentioned this fact Lady Malfoy laughed, "There's a secret hand sign current among certain clothiers, if you give it they'll wrap your child up in what they deem to be a sufficient amount of muslin and pins and order them not to move for fear of getting stuck. So for a small fee, usually about a Galleon or two you get an hour's peace to go and do that other piece of shopping you need to do without them tagging along, and your child hopefully gets to practice patience, or perhaps gets a lesson that some threats of pain and danger are not idle. I shouldn't wonder if Lucius thought the expenditure worth it that particular day."

"Oh dear," said Potter, "I'm assuming that since I'm paying, and that we're in a hurry to finish before Harriet or her family start to worry where I've disappeared to, that we won't subscribe to such foolishness."

"Quite," said Lady Malfoy, "now, you need a proper hat, do you know the significance of a upward point and a backward point?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Harry, "but actually I was wondering about a top hat."

Lady Malfoy blinked and stood back, apparently surveying him, and imagining him in the as yet unfinished suit jacket and the dress robes who only existed as a fabric selection and the parameters "an inch and a half longer than kilt length" and "cornered and faced, but swept back about two inches."

"Yes," said Lady Malfoy, "I think that would do rather well, you do realise it would require a bow tie, not a standard necktie."

"I … think I'd forgotten," said Harry, "But I'm content with that requirement."

"From that smirk I understand that you're _more _than content with the arrangement."

Harry grinned.

Lady Malfoy smirked, "so be it then." A pause, "Would this hat match your robes, your waistcoat, or your tie?"

Harry glanced longingly at the material they'd chosen for his dress robes.

"Tie sounds more sensible, but robes … strikes my fancy."

"In what way?"

"How well I would look from behind," said Harry, "perhaps a band of the same material as the tie would bring everything together."

"I don't think a hatband would send quite the message you wish to send, at least … before you pass enough OWLs to ensure your place on the path to hit-wizard or diplomat or … several other things that I don't think would suit you."

"Everyone who knew my parents, might readily believe hit-wizard or auror. Perhaps everyone who _thinks _they know what there is to know about my current family situation ought to be encouraged to begin considering that diplomat might be among my aspirations."

"There is that," said Lady Malfoy, "However, I imagine that by the time that is appropriate, you'll have grown several inches in several directions."

"True," sighed Harry.

...

The next stop was at a hat makers. The stop after that was to be introduced to the Malfoy's _London_ solicitor whose job apparently was to cover everything related to the Malfoy seat in the Wizengamot and all their inter-house alliances and contracts and other similar things. Also to manage their investments in and around London. Harry decided the partners he met were trying to be nice and approachable, but they came off as just the sort of stuffed shirts Lucius would be good at pretending to like while being impatient and contemplating mayhem and domination behind his occlumency barriers.

The stop after that was the firm of Harry's parents' solicitor. Several of the desks were empty and most everyone present seemed to be enjoying a lite day, in anticipation of the holidays.

It struck Harry as a proper sort of attitude for that time of year, and yet, it saddened him a little that his first time meeting any of them, or them meeting him for that matter, was of them not taking him or anything else quite seriously.

That seemed to change when Lady Malfoy mentioned that Harry was seeking emancipation, and as his Magical Guardian she'd seen no reason why it shouldn't be handled by her solicitor, but if all went smoothly Harry would be emancipated by the time they reopened their doors in the new year.

That sobered several of them and before too long they'd been ushered into a meeting room. After less than three minutes, two men and a woman were seated across from them and the man on the end poured them all tea.

When that was done the man in the middle introduced them all as Madam Latia, and Messrs Grumms and Rowe, three of the five partners and the only ones available at such short notice.

Harry thanked them for taking the time to meet with them.

Lady Malfoy made a show of apologising for the short notice.

Mr. Rowe suggested Harry describe his situation and any changes he wished to make in the near future.

Harry got ready to repeat the plans for him to become emancipated as soon as possible, but then and asked something else instead, "what sort of privacy can I expect for what I share here?"

"In general we are restricted from sharing anything that we don't have reason to believe that you wish to be shared. Or that must be shared to carry out your orders."

"Alright," said Harry.

"To be more specific," said Madam Latia, "there are special cases, if you divulge plans involving or implying treason against the crown, violence against the members of the Wizengamot or the muggle Parliament, or anything that would constitute the breech of a treaty currently in force, or likely to be in force by the time such plans come to fruition, we are not just allowed but required to report it where and to whom we judge best fulfils our duties to the Country of England and the Empire of Britain. Other than that you are allowed to discuss anything, even criminal acts. And we are not permitted or required to spread the word outside of our firm."

"Other than those legal protections, what practical protections are in place?"

"What protections would you like?"

Harry sniffed and stood, he drew his wand, but when he saw Lady Malfoy flinch he remembered himself, "Headmistress, may I demonstrate my repertoire of privacy charms,"

"Please," smirked Lady Malfoy indulgently.

He cast locking charms on the door and windows, a silencing charm at each wall and the floor and ceiling, the revealing charms for humans and animagi. He tried the one that ought to show the kinds of invisibility rendered by thestrals and demiguise fur but so far as he could tell the second one did not take effect. He shrugged.

When he was finished he put his wand away and sat down.

"Thank you for that demonstration," said Lady Malfoy, "those last two need work, that whole half of the room wasn't fully scanned for thestral hair cloaks, and I'm not sure you have a sufficient mental grasp of the thingness of a Demiguise."

"That's probably it," said Harry and turned to the assembled solicitors, "are you each certified in occlumency?"

"Yes, are you?" said Mr. Grumms, the others nodded.

"Still working on it," said Harry, "To my knowledge, at this point I generally sense intrusion. I've felt weaker probes fail before I got there to fight them."

They nodded with interest or polite surprise.

"Shall I finish where you left off?" said Mr. Rowe.

"Certainly," said Lady Malfoy, "out loud if it's all the same to you. Pay attention Heir Potter."

So Mr. Rowe cast revealing spells for listening charms (a dict-a-quill that was not in use), polyjuice (nothing), glamours (Mrs. Latia might in fact have hidden bags under her eyes), finally animagi and metamorphmagi.

"I say!" said all three.

Harry sighed, "good to know," and pulled out his wand, "I swear on my magic that I am the being who was named Harry James Potter by James and Lily Potter. And am to the best of my knowledge their heir designate. So mote it be. Lumos."

His wand lit.

"I am satisfied," said Mr. Rowe.

"I agree, but with reservations I'm not sure I'm ready to share." said Mrs. Latia

"That oath, was a bit more convoluted than seems … wise, should we be notified why?"

"At home and at school I regularly go by several other names," said Harry, "security and privacy reasons, I'm told that searching spells cast with some of those names do find me, leading me to be hesitant to state that my name is Harry Potter, in a way that might be taken to exclude the possibility that any other names might also apply,"

"Are you sure that's all you wish to tell them?" said Lady Malfoy.

"I suppose I need to register here in Britain too," sighed Harry.

"We can do that on our way to your emancipation hearing," said Lady Malfoy.

"We can do it here," said Lady Latia, "whichever you prefer."

"It's no problem," said Lady Malfoy, "did you have other paperwork you wished them to get started on, in anticipation of your emancipation?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Yes," corrected Lady Malfoy.

Harry pursed his lip then copied her, "Yes, I want standard a sponsorship contract drawn up for Harriet Matirni,"

"You don't want to do that," said Lady Malfoy.

"Why not, the age thing again? I thought the emancipation would allow me to formalise what I already agreed to?"

"It's not done," said Lady Malfoy, "She's your cousin. There's a different contract for acknowledging a close relative as a client line and extending the protection of your house to her. It puts off future sponsorship obligations one generation rather than four, and gives less of an impression of stinginess to the other houses who bother to take note of such things."

"Oh," said Harry.

"All the more so if you marry her later."

"I'm not going to marry her," sulked Harry, "it wouldn't suit."

"Oh, wouldn't it?" said Lady Malfoy with arched brows.

What _was_ she playing at? What was Draco's line about Harriet?

"Perhaps later," frowned Harry, "At the moment she's too much in my debt. If I asked her, she wouldn't be able to refuse, even if we both knew she wished to. Therefore I oughtn't even suggest it."

"I see," said Lady Malfoy and turned toward the assembled solicitors to roll her eyes.

So it _was _playing for an audience.

Harry snorted and turned back to the table, "what I would like drawn up are letters of … actually I'm not sure which legal concept is the one I want, I know from storybooks that they are sometimes called 'agents' or 'retainers' or 'power of attorney'.

"Who are you wishing to give this power to?"

"Harriet Matirni again," said Harry, "she is also a metamorphmagus, and already registered as such."

"Alright, anything else?"

"I want a list of everyone sent to Azkaban without a trial, and when and who put them there, and if anyone has ever tried to get any of them out, what came of it, were given trials or released or were their advocates unable to get them justice, if they were unable, what means were used against them. Prioritise for prisoners who are still alive."

"You seem convinced that there are any such prisoners?"

"I believe Lord Sirius Black is the most high status example, I want to know about all of them. I want to know if they are there for political reasons, or if they are merely suspected of crimes that are somehow not posible to prosecute but that everyone knows that they did, and how 'we all know' because that's _the point _of a trial, don't you know."

Harry realised he was preaching about the value of their vocation. He shut his mouth with a click.

"Quite," said Mr. Rowe, "What do you intend to do with this information?"

"If Lord Black is the only living example, I might do nothing more than lobby for him to get a trial, while attempting to avoid whatever pitfalls others have fallen into in the past. If he is simply one of many perhaps there is a group of actions that everyone tacitly believes is worthy of imprisonment, yet is not yet against the law, perhaps I shall attempt to introduce such a law, so that a proper outline of limits and exemptions can be agreed upon, rather than leaving it up to whatever hypothetical auror's discretion might be in force now. Perhaps it is systemic corruption and I should live prepared to flee the country before someone takes offence at my existence. In any of those cases, I want to know, so I can do my duty or prepare to live in light of reality."

"We understand, sir," said Mrs. Latia.

…

Then it was lunch and back to pick up all the clothes they had ordered. And finally, the ministry. Where the wand weigher wished very much to shake his hand, until he read off the wand material from his … whatever it was, rune encrusted contraption. Then he seemed to want to run away screaming. A glare from Lady Malfoy seemed to set him right and he let them through.

After that Lady Malfoy had him in and out of several offices before he was really sure what any of them did or which paperwork they'd filed where.

And then they were before an imposing old woman who still managed to be imposing while lounging back in her equally imposing velvet arm chair and snoring. Lady Malfoy led the way across to a diffident young man at a rather more approachable desk. The young man took the paperwork Lady Malfoy presented and skimmed it carefully. Before pulling out a sheet of his own and started filling it out. When he was finished he slid it across to Harry to read. It amounted to an oath certifying that he really wished to be emancipated (with all the associated rights and responsibilities) and requested the Empire of Great Britain acknowledge him as such. It was all filled in until a space at the bottom for him to sign and date. And several other spaces for internal affairs sorts of things.

"May I borrow your quill?" Harry said.

"No, no, wait," said the man, "First tell me, is this what you wish to do?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Wait a bit while I wake Lady Lyon."

The man went across the room and woke the sleeping woman, who listened to his excuses and sat up with much more enthusiasm. Harry thought she was about to stand and come across to them, but instead she waved them over imperiously. She showed marked interest in Lady Malfoy's presence and the cut of Heir Potter's suit.

She interviewed Harry minutely on the responsibilities he intended to take up as an emancipated adult. Harry wasn't sure if he was irritated or amused or flattered that Lady Malfoy hadn't coached him for this. On the other hand … Lady Malfoy seemed to be hanging on his every word. Again. It was just as creepy as it had been the last time she'd grilled him on politics, only then she'd had the grace to do it herself and in private. Was she still trying to decide what party he should introduce himself as when he took his seat in the Wizengamot?

At least the private tutoring sessions Professor Snape had started had him much better prepared now. Even though lately his godfather had been too busy to prepare much and he had mostly just encouraged Draco and Riddle and Matirni to debate amongst themselves. He could use the accepted terms for what he wished to say, so it didn't take nearly so long to explain his beliefs.

In the end Lady Lyon had turned the discussion back from politics to family responsibilities and honour, and it took constant internal reminders for him to answer the questions regarding himself personally as a prospective adult, not as a possible future legislator, which apparently wasn't directly the point of this meeting.

…

Harriet Matirni made it home in time for dinner, she even managed to make it to the Patils "To return a pen I accidentally stole," in time that Padma wasn't still trying to establish alibi after it was no longer needed.

In reality she delivered a ring and a bracelet that Lady Malfoy had asked her to give Padma, "in case she thought she would not be able to attend the Yule ball, because she didn't have enough appropriate jewellery to wear."

Padma blinked at her several times, "Slitherins," she muttered.

"What?" whined Harriet.

"'Able to attend', or 'able to go'?" said Padma.

Harriet frowned, "she said, 'able to travel' but the whole sentence was sort of awkward and uncharacteristic so I put it into standard floweriness."

"You're an idiot," said Padma, "it's a anchored portkey set like yours and she said exactly what she meant to and you should have taken the uncharacteristic awkwardness to be a sign that she was barely not lying and you should memorise _exactly_ what she said."

"Oh," said Harriet, "Damn, sorry."

Padma narrowed her eyes.

"I _am _sorry," said Harriet, "you want me to quote word for word what I do remember?"

Padma nodded.

Harriet did.

Padma shrugged, "no harm done, probably."

Harriet took that to be one of the Patil's weird forms of practical acquittal without full forgiveness.

She sighed and asked if Padma wished to accompany her to supper.

Padma said something weird about not eating meat in front of her family, then accepted the escort part of the way.

…

**Rings and Dresses**

"Padma?" said Parvati.

"Hmm?" said Padma looking up, not bothering to swallow what was in her mouth, but also not deigning to open her lips with her mouth full.

"Where is that ring from?" said Parvati

Rajeeta looked up too. Padma swallowed, "Lady Malfoy sent it as token that Draco's invitation to their Yule ball wasn't an unconfirmed mistake or whatever."

"Oh," said Parvati.

"It's charmed," said Rajeeta, "did she tell you what it was intended to do with the magic it is drawing in?"

"It's a multi-use portkey," said Padma, "I can use it to escape to either here or Malfoy Manor. Incidentally I can use it travel back and forth between the two places."

"That's … not the sort of thing one gives children without asking their parents," said Rajeeta.

Padma shrugged, "in some families it is the sort of thing welded around their children's ankle on their twelfth birthday. I chose to accept it as a practical if misguided statement of her care rather than as a statement about my incompetence or the ability of our family to provide such on our own."

Rajeeta's face darkened but she said no more.

After several more minutes and half as many bites, Padma lifted her head again, "I don't want to give the wrong impression, but … I'd much rather take Father and hmm perhaps Royce Matirni the first time I check _where_ on the Malfoy estates it deposits me."

Rajeeta looked thoughtful, "I think that would send exactly the _right _message about our level of caution and care, and therefore the level of caution and care we expect from Lady Malfoy."

Padma relaxed.

Parvati raised an eyebrow but covered it by looking down at her food. So much for sneaking 'I want chaperonage, the _first _time,' past their mother. Parvati was never sure where Padma and Draco stood with each other, they both were just so _distant_. Of course she'd hardly seen them together this year. Whatever that meant. Well it obviously meant she'd been obsessing with the diadem, but what else? What since then? Other than an invitation to the Malfoy's Yule Ball. Which Parvati needed help interpreting through the lens of Pureblood caste messages.

"Speaking of," said Parvati, "umm, Neville invited me to the Yule Ball at the Longbottom's."

Padma choked.

"What?" said Parvati.

Padma shivered, "what are you going to wear?"

"I'm not even sure I'm going." Said Parvati.

"You're going," said Padma, "Neville Longbottom is the heir of the most ancient house of Longbottom."

"So?" said Parvati.

"So you're going," said Padma, "Unless you have an invitation to the Abbot's party that you'd prefer to go to."

"Their party isn't on the same night."

"Then you have no suitable excuse not to go," said Padma.

"What am I missing," said Rajeeta.

"There are castes within and among even the purebloods," said Padma, "Longbottom's invitation trumps Malfoy's by several centuries, if you and Dad both go to chaperone Parvati, I shall have to stay home."

"Is it necessary for us both to go?" said Rajeeta.

"Practically? No, nor socially. The Longbottoms are safe and powerful people, as are their associates. It's some of the Malfoy's associates that have the … less savoury reputation, also powerful, more magically powerful perhaps, or more ambitious, but not as safe."

Rajeeta nodded, "but pureblood in both cases."

"Pureblood yes, noble also yes, Longbottom family is also called 'most ancient' there aren't many such families left."

Rajeeta nodded, "How ancient are we talking about?"

"Not as old as Hogwarts," said Padma, "but older than the Magna Carta."

"Impressive," said Rajeeta, "for England," she hummed for several minutes.

"Going back to a previous topic," said Rajeeta eventually, "what would be appropriate to wear for such an occasion?"

"I can find you the pages in my books," said Padma, "but you'd probably have better luck understanding what they mean if you asked Harriet."

"Couldn't we just … wear very very formal Indian robes and sneer at them for being less formally dressed?" said Parvati.

"Sure," said Padma, "If you're a visiting Indian business woman here for two months to set up deals and sign contracts before you leave again, if you're a diplomat or an immigrant, it is better to do the locals the honour of dressing in their style, and if possible their language."

Parvati grimaced.

Rajeeta seemed amused, "I think," said Rajeeta, "that it sounds like I should wear my princess dress and take Parvati to the Longbottom Ball, and Padma should go with your father to the Malfoy's ball, and either Padma or Harriet should be in charge of all three of your dresses."

Parvati realised she was sulking and tried to stop.

"I think," said Padma, "we can each choose our own colours, but it might be best if Harriet or Lady Malfoy herself were to have the final word on cut and pattern."

"So be it," said Rajeeta.

**{End Chapter 11}**

Arg, questions in anonymous reviews, I can't reply by PM, so here you go:

To Guest:

In cannon Augustus Rookwood was a death eater in the first war, while working in the Department of Mysteries. At this point in the Cannon time line he was in Azkaban.

As you can see here he's very much not in Azkaban and still working for the DoM. I'm not certain we will get to see why the difference. As for self insert… You suspect me, me? Of self insert? *sniff* … actually come to think of it _I could _do that. … but given that the narration so far has been "internally-consistent, anchored, third person," I think I shall guarantee that if I self insert here it will suddenly jump to first person narration.

That being said, yes, I wouldn't mind working for the DoM.

Yes, poor Narcissa, First her birth family was all dead or in prison, (or kicked out), then she gets Andromeda back just in time to lose her husband. What could come next? She tries to keep busy, busy is good, keeps grief from becoming depression. And now _what's all this then_?

Re: Sally-Ann Perks: Yes, she disappears from cannon right after her sorting, but harry isn't very aware of his non-gryffindors classmates at first, and hufflepuffs don't put themselves forward with quite the same vigor as certain slytherins that we love or hate… Part of why I portray her is that I wanted to show the sponsorship system and its assumptions do not, and cannot work in all situations. Sure it usually works (how many of the griffendors we meet, and probably even some slytherins we meet, are first of their line, but no one makes anything of it, because they were given the chance to assimilate respectfully, and are doing so) it even worked for Harriet, even though it shouldn't have, given Dumbledore's plot to put HP out of it's normal reach. But there are other kinds of gray areas, Hermione's sponsor 'communicated badly' and Sally-Ann's parent's leave her in a position of being a half-blood with no tutoring, and a confusing legacy.

Good job, yes, warlock means oath-breaker. I've never been able to find convincing reason why 'oath-breaker' ought to mean 'male witch.' I think it was while writing this scene or the one immediately before that this idea popped into my head fully formed: in cannon, but especially in FanFic we see the magical oath used with abandon, if you could promise things and put something up for collateral that people would truly believe would be sacrificed if you broke it, could you promise? What if you did and broke it and that thing disappeared?

Here we see that loosing all one's own magic might be the end of one's status in the wizarding world, at least for most people, but … what of the others, what about those who have learned the harder techniques, and can work magic that is not coming from inside even if they didn't lose their magic by breaking an oath.

In this tradition we have the cabal of wizards in Diana Wynn Jones' enchanted forest series. We have Harry's nega twin sister in 'Princess of the Blacks' by Silently Watches (also on this site, Rated M for a reason! You have been warned! ) And something to look forward to later: certain people in Harriet's adoptive family.

To Everyone:

Thanks for the corrections. Thanks for your support.

Bregalad out.


	35. 2-12: Yule Ball

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Yule Ball**

Severus apparated to the public apparition point at Wiltshire and ducked behind a large yew tree to fix his cravat, again. And to thank any gods who might be listening that he only had to do this once a year.

Then he strolled in the main entrance.

"Mr. Snape, be welcome." said Narcissa extending her hand.

He bowed over it as appropriate, "Lady Malfoy, Thank you."

He advancing another step and gave a smaller than strictly appropriate nod, "Draco," he said.

"Godfather," said Draco without missing a beat, and gave a impudent smirk rather than any nod at all.

_Well done, impudent child_.

He waited a beat in case Draco wanted to take the conversation any further.

He didn't seem to, then he changed his mind just as Severus was about take a step, "Potter and Matirni are here,"

"Ah," he said. _That_ sounded complex enough to augment the evening's diversions.

He stepped all the way into the hall and looked around, he saw several children and almost started for them, before he realised that they were both Greengrass girls, the Davis girl and someone's younger bother.

He turned away, he had ex-death eaters to 'renew contact' with in such a way that he could not be suspected of avoiding contact, not hiding anything, not disloyal, and certainly not harbouring the last and future Dark Lord in a supremely influencable pre-adult state. Nor Wizarding Britain's wonder child, in an equally influencable state, since he'd begun announcing himself to the world, it would only matter to seem not to closely tied to him. A mere passing acquaintance, after all he _was _a known associate of the Malfoys, his cousins.

.

He looked up from a lively re-scripted version of an old debate with the Carrow sister to see the young Dark Lord in question thread his way though the milling crowd trailed close behind by Lord Potter projecting much too strongly an air of '_SNEAKING!_'.

"The hell?" she said.

"I probably should look into that," said Severus, "If you'll excuse me."

"Better you than me," she said, "who are they?"

"Lord Potter and someone who he _probably_ shouldn't be following around without an escort."

She giggled, "good luck,"

Severus sighed and made in the direction he thought they'd been headed.

.

He caught up with them in the library, on the table were three books, and around it sat four pupils, Riddle, Draco, Potter, and Patil Padma. "Dare I ask," he said, "what is so important that Draco has been called away from doing his duty as a host?"

"We're just cross-referencing the votes and annotations, by Black, Potter, and Malfoy, in their Wizengamot journals," said Riddle, "I'm glad you could join us."

"Do I want to know how you got hold of said Journals and got them here?"

"Lady Malfoy helped me retrieve mine from Gringotts the day I was emancipated," said Potter.

"I'm not sure where Mom got the Black's Vote Journal," said Draco, "but she said we'd put it in Sirius' vault when we were done with it."

"Hmm," said Severus, "as enlightening as such a perusal would doubtless be, Balls are for networking not for forming policy."

Patil looked supremely uncomfortable, the others were used to the political debates and research parties he'd hosted on Headmistress Malfoy's request. As Draco's presumed intended, perhaps Patil ought to have been invited.

"It wasn't going to be all night," said Draco, "Just to settle a small debate we were having,"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Uncle Severus," said Potter in a mock whine that was eminently more becoming when it issued from Matirni's lips, and even then not in the best taste, "don't be _Professor _Snape, not tonight."

"Hmm," said Severus, "alright, what's this about?"

"The Black and Potter position on the immigration of European magicals before the French Revolution," said Draco, "and how far before the Malfoy sponsorship that policy changed."

_And_, if Severus didn't miss his guess, _how much of the extended Black family could be expected to countenance Draco's bid for the Patil alliance._

"Ah," he said, "that is an interesting question, though your mother is likely to know the dates of such things off the top of her head, whereas I haven't a clue."

Draco seemed to correctly interpret this as another suggestion to put this off until tomorrow. He shook his head, "with all of us looking it shouldn't take more than half an hour."

"Alright," shrugged Severus, "if it takes longer than that, expect I or your mother to return to chase you back down stairs."

He almost turned away before he let his eyes lock on Patil's, "Is there anything I can get for you?" _your father perhaps?_

"I'm fine," She said and held up her hand and to click a ring with her thumbnail. It wasn't a gesture Severus knew the meaning for, but she seemed much more confident after making it. Perhaps an alternate method to … no, probably proof that she had a house elf at her beck and call.

But then the other three probably did too, so that didn't register as a significant advantage… Wait, actually…

"Alright," he said and went back downstairs.

…

Both the Tonks women asked him to dance, that could have been awkward except that they seemed to have cleared it with each other before either of them approached him.

After that he was not at all surprised when Narcissa also invited him to the floor.

"What is this," he said when they were safely spinning away from listening ears, "some sort of stratagem by the House of Black to make me appear sought after?"

Narcissa giggled, "I don't know what Andromeda wanted, I was going to ask _you_, actually."

"She says her husband hurt his ankle recently and thought she remembered that I was enough a friend of the family that I'd be safe to be seen with."

"Pooh, she's old enough she can dance with whom she likes, especially with her husband here watching her."

"Quite," said Severus, "also I also have considered myself a friend of Lucius for so long I hadn't considered that it had spread to the rest of the Black family, though it seems to have the longer I think about it."

"Hmm," said Narcissa, "so it seems, does this mean that I can trust you to play nice with Sirius once I spring him from durance vile?"

Severus sighed, "you know he tried to kill me."

"I heard the feeling was _mutual_," said Narcissa, "The world has moved on and you've matured, at least somewhat. I'm not sure that's possible where he is."

"There's a disturbing thought," said Severus.

.

"So I was wondering," said Severus, "about house elves."

"What about them," said Narcissa, "the best records are entailed to the House of Black, but I may be able to quote details of interest."

"I was actually wondering if you've offered one to Miss Patil,"

"Ah," said Narcissa, "I … might should discuss that with Mr. Patil, while I have him at hand."

"So she doesn't currently have access to one?"

"Not to my knowledge, but she is so well read that I wouldn't be surprised if she has taken it upon herself to acquire one."

"Oh," said Severus, "Hmm,"

"Why do you ask?"

"She clicked a ring at me when I asked if she needed anything, I thought she was telling me she was old enough to have been allowed to command her family's house elf, which wasn't _at all _what I'd been asking. Then I started to wonder where they'd gotten a house elf, if they've been squibs for at least one generation and don't stay in a house where one might expect to find a legacy bond."

"She was probably telling you that she didn't feel the need for close chaperonage because she has an emergency portkey," said Narcissa, "I have the feeling that translates differently to her than to her family."

"Probably," Severus sighed.

"I can't actually give her Pooka," muttered Narcissa, "I need to figure out what to do about Dobby."

"What's wrong with Dobby?"

"He's the son of Dorea's elf. When she died and he couldn't find Potter. He returned home, Kreature sent him to us because there wasn't enough magic in that house for two elves, what without any magicals living there and being thankful to them. Poor Kreature shouldn't be there either but he can't tear himself away from Walburga's painting even though it doesn't give him the strength to do a lick of work."

"Hmm,"

"And I can only stay as long as I can forget that neither Walburga nor Sirius are there for me to visit."

"I _wondered _if you had a way past the wards."

"Sort of," said Narcissa, "it's not very safe, definitely not consistent, but I am keyed through as long as I'm on visiting business, once I get to family business or politicking I can't stay unless someone in residence welcomes me, it's always a disturbing exercise and … and last time I tried it I relaxed my occlumency barriers just a bit short of the ward line and got expelled … several yards."

Severus winced in sympathy.

"Yes," said Narcissa, "I'm getting too old for such silliness."

About a minute later they reached the edge of the floor and Narcissa stopped them, "Sorry but I should go check on dinner."

"Quite," said Severus, "thank you for the dance."

"Oh dear," said Narcissa looking under his arm.

"Huh?" he said turning to look.

"Never mind," she said, "you're welcome, feel free to _ask _for dances you know."

"I know," he sighed. And she was gone. He looked again across the floor. Intending to find another disreputable sort to speak to, to make sure they knew that they were not unwatched.

Instead his eyes fell on Miss Patil and Lord Potter spinning a bit more enthusiastically than he'd have expected from either of them.

_Oh dear, indeed._

But they seemed to be keeping it up with no loss of balance.

Where was Draco? Oh, there by the side of the floor, with his arms crossed in mock outrage but a tremendous smirk on his lips. That … was mixed signals if he ever saw them.

Then his face switched to … deep concern. Severus looked back, Riddle had just butted in.

Patil flinched and stared at him, not like someone random who'd butted in, but like they had _history_. _Decades_ of history, which was impossible.

He was about to offer to intervene when he saw Draco already crossing the floor. A moment later Riddle bent his ear to her. Her head shook like she was shouting over the music. Riddle nodded and stepped away.

On his way back to the edge of the floor he stopped for a short conference with Draco and continued on. Draco continued to Patil's side and danced the remainder with her.

Severus turned aside, how would he find out what Patil had against Riddle. _If she knew too much and let it spill__… well that would just force too many people's hands too quickly. Better make sure she was prepared to survive the consequences if she did feel the need to … reveal too much._

_What did she know?_

This dance would be ending soon, and Dinner would be commencing directly after the next. Would she be safe to leave alone through dinner?

He turned toward where he'd seen Riddle.

Now might be a good time to question him.

"What is your relationship with Miss Patil?" he said.

"I proposed to sacrifice her for my purposes, she was annoyed but did not resist or offer threats of resistance,"

"Why not?"

"I can be persuasive."

"No doubt. Was she aware exactly what she'd be giving up?"

"She didn't let herself become aware, it was rather pathetic."

"Hmm," said Severus.

"Her sister brought to my attention some bad calculations on my part, improving my plans and indirectly saving her sister's life."

_Parvati made threats of her own, in other words._

"I see," said Severus.

"I wouldn't know," said Riddle, "at any rate Padma has been much less prone since then to be dragged around without looking first."

"Is that what I saw on the dance floor?"

Riddle shrugged, "I wanted a moment alone to apologise for … well never mind that."

"What?"

"The apology I could give her, she couldn't accept and the apology she could accept, I couldn't give. We both now understand. And I think will be content with Draco … keeping us apart."

"Does she know enough to ruin your reputation?"

"I don't have enough reputation at this point for it to be ruined."

"Never think that," said Severus, "No one is ever so low that they can't be brought lower still by public opinion."

"Yet we are so often amazed by how little attention our neighbours pay us."

"Perhaps," said Severus.

Something tugged at his sleeve, he turned.

"Uncle Severus, May I have this—" Miss Matirni trailed off, she was dressed almost as handsomely as Miss Patil.

"Mr. Riddle," she said, "Lord Potter said you were here."

"I am," said Riddle.

"I, umm…" Matirni trailed off again, looking back and forth between the two men.

_Matirni __… speechless, he hadn't seen that in ages._

"Go ahead, dance with your godfather," said Riddle

"Sorry," said Matirni, "It is something of a tradition."

Severus snorted, but offered Matirni his arm.

She took it with another look backward at Riddle. And Severus led her onto the floor.

…

There was hardly any song left but in that time Severus noted several tiny missteps that hinted to anyone who knew it were even possible, that she'd been dancing the man's part not three minutes earlier.

She looked eminently displeased that the song had ended.

"This next one will be the last before dinner," said Severus, "Which clothes were you planning on wearing and how much warning do you need?"

She looked thoughtful, "about two minutes," she said, "most of the dances have been about ten,"

"I somewhat expect this one to last closer to five," said Severus.

"Then … may I have … two minutes of this dance?"

"Yes, you may," said Severus and they glided away.

"Do you really intend to dance with Riddle?"

"Is there a reason that I shouldn't?" she said, "I believe myself to be one of the few people here that he knows, I sort of expected to steal him from Padma. I didn't want Draco to have to steal Padma given that he was only sort of willing to let Potter dance with her."

"Ah," said Severus, "an interesting sense of honour you bring to the calculation."

She shrugged.

"There's something you want to say,"

"I didn't mean to be matchmaker for them, but every once in a while I feel that maybe I was, or maybe they feel that I was, or something, it is disconcerting, because I didn't intend anything of the sort."

"Ah,"

"I hope they are happy though,"

"Quite," said Severus, "is there something else?"

"There is, but I am not at liberty to discuss it."

"Ah,"

"This is probably where I should be leaving," she said, "Thank you for the dance,"

"You're welcome," he said and followed her to the edge of the floor, at a much more sedate pace.

He had a moment to look around before other couples started leaving the floor and breaking up to find the partner they'd be sitting with for dinner.

Riddle appeared beside him, "Did you infer that Lord Potter ordered Matirni to dance with me?"

"'Ordered' might be too strong a word," said Severus, "aid Draco in keeping you entertained and at a friendly distance from Patil, might also be more of the truth than she was explicitly let in on."

"Ah," said Riddle, "Lord Potter … _knows_ things I don't expect him to."

"Have you much experience with magical twins?" said Severus.

"A bit,"

"There have been rumours that Matirni and Potter share attributes that should not be possible outside familiars and magical twins,"

"They're cousins?"

"So they say, but born just less than nine months apart, and the rumours have it, they were raised together after Potter was orphaned, until paparazzi became a problem and Potter was shipped off to the continent or something more subtle was done to keep him out of the public eye."

"Ah," said Riddle, "_called _cousins but raised as something even closer than Irish twins."

"You get the idea."

"Yet Lord Potter goes to school on the continent."

"And the Patil twins were sorted into different houses."

"That is as it must be," said Riddle, "If Potter were to attend Hogwarts, he'd be in slytherin I think."

"That is my impression, decades of idle speculation place him in Gryffindor based on his parents' house, Matirni and Draco who know him better than most notably _don't _disagree."

"Ah," said Riddle, "And what do you think?"

"Hmm,"

"From your own observations, sir, not from the observations of others,"

"I would say he'd have been in gryffindor had he been raised by his parents, and perhaps he'd have been in slytherin if he'd been raised only by Matirni's mother, but he's had additional guardians on the continent, and now a year and a half of schooling as well, your guess is perhaps as good as mine."

"Here is perhaps, my real question," said Riddle, "They seem free about sharing my secrets between themselves, do they keep them at that point or are they likely to share beyond their clique, and is there anyone else within their clique?"

"I believe," said Severus, "that they are not able to _keep_ secrets from each other, which ought to mean they also allow the other to know exactly how precious those secrets are to others, I could be wrong and you might should confront each of them before you decide."

"Hmm," said Riddle, "Alright I'll try to keep that in mind."

…

No one was surprised to see Narcissa at the head of the table this year, what perhaps surprised most of them was that the table end was wide enough for two, and Draco joined her at her right and Miss Patil sat around the corner on his right, followed by her father, then the only Lestrange not in Azkaban, who Severus didn't think he'd ever spoken to, and who most definitely had been neutral during the last war. Then the Davies. On Narcissa's left were Andromeda and Ted Tonks, their daughter, then Lord Potter and Severus, then the Parkinsons and the Greengrasses and the Davises.

There was a tremendous amount of muttering. Everyone wondering why the change in seating arrangement, the old arrangement had been along very strict interpretation of pureblood status, this new arrangement was not so very far different in most respects, but Severus and the Parkinsons were out of place, as were the Patils. No… they could be interpreted to be properly in place, if one of two assumptions was made, either Lady Malfoy was recognising their blood status from elsewhere within the empire, or she was already acknowledging them as family … no that didn't fit, what about Potter and Severus …

"Mr. Snape," muttered Mr. Parkinson, "can you make sense of this beyond … making everyone and everything very awkward?"

"No cousin," whispered Severus even more quietly, "the only interpretation I can see is that family Black is closing ranks, even Andromeda's mudblood is included. I suppose we are also being invited to close ranks as well, or Narcissa is dropping the fiction that my mother didn't really marry my father. A relief in some ways quite disturbing in others."

"Hmm," rumbled Mr. Parkenson, "this all has a familiar ring to it."

He turned to his wife and they held an equally quiet conversation.

Between courses, when he could do so without being quite as obvious, Mr. Parkinson turned back and muttered, "Narcissa and Lord Potter are rumoured to favour 'Family First' over 'The Pureblood Way,'"

_Bingo._

"That checks out," said Severus, "does the rest of the seating arrangement follow."

"I don't know the Indian family." Mr. Parkinson said, "do they … represent a family line as prestigious as the Prince line?"

"Probably more so," said Severus, "I believe both Royal and Ancient. Though a cadet branch, just as you and I."

"Understood," said Mr. Parkinson, "Yes, I can see why they got the right hand side of the table then. Hmm… yes and it's in prestige order after that with houses together rather than split by lines."

Severus looked down the table again, double checking the new theory.

"Does this represent a new policy shift do you think?"

"I don't know," said Severus, "it _might _have been nothing more than a way to get her sister by her side and not way down in the half blood section."

"There is no half blood section anymore," said Mr. Parkinson, "all the halfbloods are folded in with their nearest pureblood kin."

"Interesting."

"And here _we _are, seated as if our grandfather were here with us." With no actual pureblood kin, in other words.

"True,"

"Wouldn't _that _be just the epitome of awkward," Mr. Parkinson chuckled to himself.

"Wouldn't it just," agreed Severus, realising that they were no longer hiding the fact that they were speaking to one another.

He looked down the table again and saw other previously estranged guests speaking, some in good humour, some in humour a bit too high to portray actual comfort.

…

After dinner there were further dances, Lord Potter danced with most of the slytherin pupils of the female variety, Harriet Matirni made a reappearance later and danced with Draco and Rodger Davies. She also did something with Riddle that _could_ _be interpreted _as dancing, though they never touched. It was an odd thing to watch, especially since they stayed in sync remarkably well for having only their eyes to tell them of the other's movements.

**Parvati's Christmas**

The train ride started normally enough, but when the retelling of holidays started, Parvati felt oddly out of her element, last year her friends told of their Christmas activities with the familiarity of long expectation and much longer tradition.

Parvati's Christmas had been _anything_ but traditional, for one thing she'd attended a Yule Ball after the British no-longer-druid tradition, and at the home of a very prominent pureblood, she'd been on her best behaviour and felt stuffy. The only time she'd felt the least bit relaxed was when Neville took her outside onto a balcony and given her a potted mertlap and a charmed bag to carry it in safely. They'd spent a whole ten minutes discussing exactly how stuffy all the traditional bowing and nodding and curtsying and sitting 'just so' made them feel, and Neville confided exactly how many hours he and his grandmother had sat around a table in the library with a protocol specialist to decide the arrangement of guest cards at the dining table.

After that Parvati stopped feeling awkward at how long she and Padma and Harriet had taken to pick out and order alterations for her very _very_ formal dress. Later he took her and several others to a different balcony and given a bird's eye tour of the gardens and green houses.

Finally Lavender did notice that Parvati had not said a word and asked her directly,

"How was your Christmas, Parvati?"

"It was good, mostly," said Parvati.

"A quiet Christmas at home with your family then?" said Lavender.

Parvati shrugged, "we don't celebrate Christmas, or not … in the normal way,"

The same muttering as last year, but more subdued and much less interested.

"Yes, you told us last year, but what _did _you do?"

"Well for Yule, Mum and I visited Neville," Parvati realised that she could either play this for all it was worth, as if it were an excuse to look down on everyone. Look down on them as much as Harriet had hinted she _always _could if she wished to. And Parvati had long since decided that she shouldn't look down on everyone that much, but it was equally annoying that they didn't realise that they deserved her to.

"You went to the Longbottom's Yule Ball," squeaked Lavender, "Ooh Merlin, who else was there?"

Parvati shrugged, "Neville obviously, and lots of his relatives, hmm and the Abbots, Susan Bones and great uncle or cousin of hers to chaperone, several other Hufflepuffs who's faces I know but who's names I don't. Hmm… the Wood's were there, I think the whole Hufflepuff quidditch team was there."

Now _everyone _was excited though several tried to contradict her about one of the team members who they'd all seen elsewhere at the Yule Ball at the ministry.

"Were they even at the same time?" said Parvati.

"Yule balls traditionally go all night," explained Lavender, "I thought you knew _that_ at least."

Parvati shrugged, "Mum and I got bored at about eleven and went home."

Lavender sniffed, "then you … may have missed the actual ritual, I've heard the Longbottoms actually keep the traditional ritual. Not just the huge log but the actual blessings and prayers."

Parvati shrugged, "sounds interesting," She said in an only vaguely interested way. It sounded like the sort of thing she'd rather read about than participate in, at least until she knew what to expect, and after she'd cross referenced that it didn't violate her own religious traditions and codes of behaviour.

"So," said Demelza Robins with her usual hint of suddenly-overcome shyness, "why did you go with just your mum?"

"What do you mean?" said Lavender.

"I mean what about Padma?"

"Padma and Dad went to the Malfoy's Ball," said Parvati.

"Ooh" said several as if one or the other twin had been insulted by not being invited to the other ball, Parvati decided that it was time for a bit of a fib, "both of us got invitations," said Parvati, "we both understood them to mean the whole family, but … mine was addressed to me and Padma was addressed to her, and Mum and Dad agreed that the correct thing was to accept both of them."

"So what was the Malfoy's ball like?"

"I don't know exactly," said Parvati, "but Padma made it sound like a lot more fun, Professor Snape, was there and Harriet and her cousin Lord Potter."

"What was he like?"

"He _sounds _like the the Weasley twins except with manners as stiff as MacGonagall or Percy when he feels like it, Padma said she danced with him, and with Draco, and with Rodger Davies and a couple other ravenclaws and some slytherins that I don't remember."

They were interested in Lord Potter but they went completely dreamy about Rodger Davies.

All of a sudden this all felt like gossip instead of like 'recounting the fun one had over Christmas hols.'

Maybe the difference was when she started repeating Padma's stories instead of telling her own.

"Did _she _stay for any of the old rituals?" said someone.

"I don't know," Parvati shrugged, "she came home about two, and said Harriet had said she'd stay until Lord Potter was ready to leave, but she didn't tell me about any Yule ceremonies." _Not that I knew enough to ask, and the Malfoy's are sneaky enough they could have had some such ceremonies going on in the basement or the library or the garden while everyone else was inside dancing, and no one would know who wasn't supposed to._

**{End Chapter 12}**

A/N:

The story moves to a T rating next episode, for snogging and discussion of the morals of taking the law into one's own hands when it comes to murdering predicted murderers. You have been warned.

Also, in case some of you were wondering: Yes, I've switched to dropping one chapter at a time even though I usually still upload 4 at once. Partly because I'm beginning to think perhaps I edit better when I'm concentrating on one chapter three times in a row, (interesting times getting all aspects of formatting from Scrivener uploaded to .), and the other part is that I realised that according to the traffic stats, about a third of my audience was missing chapters when I dropped 4 at once, therefore, if you feel like you're missing something, go back and double check, a bunch of people missed chapters: 18, 19, 22, 23, 24, 26, a few people missed some others.

You're welcome,

Bregalad.


	36. 2-13: Luna stirs up everything

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me please contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong._

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Luna stirs up everything**

Padma wandered the train for several minutes looking for Draco but after two trips the whole length of the train she gave up and sat down with Harriet, Hermione, and Blaise, or at least his things. No doubt Draco would show up eventually. Except Blaise was gone now, probably off to find Draco also. Good luck to him.

Luna showed up next. She greeted Padma as 'Princess' as she did sometimes, which had always been disconcerting, given that she'd never told her to, and from time to time told her _not_ to. But Luna often knew things that no one else bothered to understand. What startled Padma though was that she greeted Harriet as, "Lord Potter,"

Harriet responded with, "Hello, Lord Potter, I'm Harriet Matirni," and an almost respectful enough nod who's effect was totally ruined because she didn't bother to look up from her book.

Luna sniffed and turned away.

Hermione giggled, though it wasn't obvious if she was giggling at their exchange or about something in her book.

_Wait a second_, exactly a year ago on this very train, the discussion had been about Harriet holding an object of power that had been 'loaned' to her from 'Harry Potter' and which had gone along with the loan in spite of apparently having some way of determining when it was in friendly hands. Because it _identified _Harriet Matirni as Harry Potter.

And Luna Lovegood, who also knew things she shouldn't, and randomly identified Padma as 'Princess' even though she hardly ever advertised her connections, had identified Harriet Matirni, as 'Lord Potter,'

"Hermione," said Padma, "I know this is extremely rude to ask but could you give Matirni and I a moment."

Hermione stared at her, then at Harriet shaking, possibly with laughter. Then at Luna Lovegood who seemed to have returned to obliviousness of the fact that she'd been snubbed, and gotten out a garish magazine of her usual variety. Today she seemed to be in the mood to read it sideways.

"Give her hell," muttered Hermione and stood, "should I take Luna with me?"

Time seemed to stand still. As if the moment had a terrible significance. What was wrong with Harriet and what would she say when confronted, and … did Draco know? And was it the secret that they'd told her they'd be able to tell her after Christmas or during the summer hols or whenever she learned Occlumency? (Which seemed was the discipline she should have mastered before she attempted to use the diadem, and should definitely master before she attempted to build her own.)

"It might be better," agreed Padma, she turned to Luna, "Luna, please go with Hermione, I'll explain why later."

"I already know why," sniffed Luna, "It will be alright," and she turned the page and made no indication of intending to get up.

_Of course _that would be Luna's response, and Padma had no control over her, and never had, and she already knew whatever the secret was, so it didn't matter where she was and what she overheard. The only sane thing was to let her stay and hope that there would be some way to convince her try to act somewhat discreet.

"Alright," sighed Padma, "stay if you want,"

Hermione left and closed the door.

Before Padma could move Harriet hit it with a locking charm and swept the room with a silencing charm.

Which was a relief actually, why didn't they do that all the time. Actually if she didn't miss her guess the prefects and some of the upper years _did _silence out a large portion of the train noises in their compartments.

"Spill," said Padma.

"I _am _Lord Potter," said Harriet Matirni.

"Spill the rest,"

Matirni sat still for several seconds.

"We traded places at the Malfoy's," said Matirni.

_That was entirely possible, and implied all sorts of interesting things, such as._ "You're both metamorphmagi?" said Padma.

"Yes," said Matirni, "and registered,"

"And Draco knows, which is why he as much as said … you were interchangeable parts?"

Matirni or was it Potter, shivered. And nodded.

"How long have you been pulling that trick?"

"A very long time," Matirni admitted.

It _was _a funny thing for circus kids to try, especially two with an acting background. It didn't become awkward until Padma thought about puberty and boarding schools and dorms and…

"Are you going to stop when you get married?"

Matirni shivered, "I'm not sure to what extent we _can _stop, there was something of an oath and a ritual that started it."

"That's at least as disturbing as …"

"We _didn't _know better at the time," said Matirni and hit the compartment window with a colour change charm rendering it an opaque turquoise. Then she morphed and was the same young man Padma had danced with at Draco's party. "And we _very _much wish to become … normal enough to not scare away potential dates."

Padma nodded.

"In fact," said Potter, "the whole thing started with the intent of giving us each turns feeling normal without people bothering us about being the Boy-Who-Lived or about being the second heir apparent to the circus. Both of those went away, eventually what with Mum shipping the male one of us to Slovenia and Uncle Dran having another pair of kids.

"But we'd already started, and we'd already gotten in the habit of sharing memories so that we could show each other around our new homes on opposite ends of the continent, switching places of course meant, sharing friends too and making friends meant, …" he clenched his teeth twice.

Padma suddenly realised he was suppressing tears, "having friends in both places meant we really really don't want to stop."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I have duties here in England," said Potter, "I have to be Lord, Matirni doesn't and she's better at being me than I am at being her, I expect she'll eventually stay in Slovenia and I'll take up more and more of my duties here. But…"

"But what?"

"But it's perhaps equally likely that we'll both move here, or we'll do something else and just share a summer house in Slovenia, it's normal for English nobles to have summer houses weird places, right?"

_That's not the way I'd describe it. But he seems really fragile right now._ "I suppose that's one way to put it," Padma said.

But Padma's thoughts were elsewhere, if he changed gender back and forth as much as he said, it wouldn't be sane in any stretch of the term to throw him out of the girls' dorm for 'being a boy' any more than it would have been to throw him out of the boys' dorm for 'being a girl' the only safe thing to do by standard chaperonage laws was to stick him in a bedroom alone, and so far as she knew Draco had the only such room in slytherin, or maybe he was just the only student in his year with one. Draco could handle himself and probably Matirni too, so that was alright. But Padma couldn't exactly advocate such a change, not without explaining to the whole of slytherin why such a change might be necessary. To say nothing of the fact that taking such a stance would freak out both Draco and Matirni after everything Padma had said about them spending too much time together unsupervised.

And just because he identified as the one _born _to the name Potter, though it might not necessarily be the name he went by most of the time… it might be completely out of touch to consider a metamorph to be either gender in particular.

Not unless they established a preference. Like Tonks did.

It might just be easier to accept Matirni and/or Potter as magical creatures, like Blaise or Luna, and accept them on their own terms, not as witches or wizards, just as themselves.

But even that didn't work, because they _traded places,_ for Merlin's sake. Shiva's sake?

Luna stood up and moved right in front of Potter.

Potter looked up and blinked tears out of his eyes, "What?"

She climbed into his lap and hugged him.

_Luna, Luna, Luna?_

Potter didn't know Luna.

Luna looked over her shoulder at Padma, "Lord Harry Potter-Matirni is _my _magical creature, you and Draco can't have h— them."

"What?" said Potter.

Luna didn't turn to him, "Stop worrying," she yelled at Padma, "I saw him first, besides you don't need him, you have Draco."

Suddenly Padma _was_ jealous, which was stupid, she _wanted _Matirni to stay a respectable distance _away _from Draco. And here she was with emotions as if she actually wanted Luna to stop assuming she had the right to order her, Padma, to stay a respectable distance away from Potter or Matirni, whichever happened to be playing at being 'Matirni' today.

To make matters more complex she … had a proprietary feeling toward Luna and seeing her that close to…

Potter morphed back to Matirni and patted Luna on the back in a very tentative manner.

Which annoyed Padma in a whole different direction, If Potter was going to be taking care of Luna for her, Padma wanted him/her/them to be Great Prospero not … not Olivia or Rosalind.

"Alright," said Luna, "I might share, but … not very often," she turned back to Matirni and without pausing to notice the change of face, kissed her full on the lips.

After several seconds of startled immobility Matirni moved her hands to Luna's cheeks and pushed her gently away, "Thank you Luna, but … what in Merlin's name was that about?"

"You've been praying for a magical creature who doesn't mind you being Harry and Harriet," said Luna, "I think both of you are pretty."

_That was rather straightforward for Luna, _Padma wondered if Potter knew how lucky he was to get that much explanation.

Of course it didn't last, Luna felt compelled to greater honesty, "Padma likes you both too, so does Draco, but they both are afraid of how much the other likes you, and anyways they like each other better. And you just like them because you don't mind them knowing your secrets so you don't have to worry about accidentally telling them by mistake."

"Hmm," said Matirni, her face turning to Arsène Lupin for a fraction of a second before taking on the shape of a well known detective in his French disguise. "That isn't the only thing I like about either of them," said Shearlaw Combs.

A part that Padma knew _Matirni _had never played.

"You also like both their advice and Draco's hugs," said Luna, "And Draco likes to hug you, but not Matirni so _maybe _he can tell you apart, but … You can hug me _any_ time, alright? You're going to end up marrying me anyway," Luna sighed in exasperation, "so I guess we should get used to it."

Shearlaw Combs raised an eyebrow exactly like Petunia Matirni. Luna was looking at his mouth, perhaps contemplating another kiss.

"You don't like the idea?" he prompted.

"You haven't figured out that I already know all your secrets, so you don't have to be afraid of accidentally letting me figure them out."

"Prove it," he said.

"With Padma here?" she said.

"Sure why not," he said.

"Alright," said Luna and wispered something in his ear. He chewed his lip for a moment. She seemed to take that as an indication that her revelation wasn't impressive enough and said, "Riddle and you hurt when you touch each other the same way you and Quirrell and you and the diary. If Padma had let you hold the diadem like I suggested he'd have bled out of it too before he could hurt her."

"What has Riddle got to do with it?" said Matirni instantly switching back to her normal form and looked very serious indeed.

"Riddle was, who had become, he who must not be named, who made the bleeding diary, and lost just enough of himself in the diadem to do what he did to Padma, and who had hurt your cousin Bellatrix, and who killed your parents."

"I … don't know what he did to Padma," said Matirni, and after a split second searching Luna's face looked up at Padma.

"It's not her story to tell," said Padma, "I didn't know it had anything to do with you, otherwise Parvati and I would have told you sooner,"

Matirni nodded.

"Worry about that _later_," said Luna, "kiss me now,"

Matirni stared at Luna. After several seconds, she smirked and kissed Luna.

They snogged for much longer than Padma had stomach to watch them. Then Matirni pulled away, "I'll kiss you again after you tell me about Riddle being Voldemort,"

"He's not Voldemort, he is who was who became Voldemort," said Luna, "now he is who will become someone else. You and Draco are helping him. So are Professor Snape and Parvati and Lady Malfoy.

"Who _will _he become then?" said Matirni.

"I don't know exactly," said Luna, "I haven't see him very often yet, and he changes who he will be so much faster than anyone else. Besides I wont seer on him for you until I am _your _seer."

"Meaning what?" said Matirni.

Even Padma understood that "seer on him," meant either tattle or spy, but future oriented.

"You say, 'I Harry, accept Luna as my seer, and trusting her predictions to be correct, I now plan to marry her in August, 1997, as she has foretold.' We will have three children, Chiron, Dorea, and Newt."

"I'm not saying all that," said Matirni.

"Good," said Luna, "it's still not certain if the last one will be Newt or Hobart or Severus."

"But … it will be a boy?"

"Yes,"

"Hmm," said Matirni.

"Dorea will turn out to be a metamorphmagus and might go by Hobart or Severus or Orion, which will make us choose a different name for the next one."

"Sounds reasonable," said Matirni, "Tell me about our marriage."

"Oh," said Luna, "sorry, I will marry Lord Potter, and Harriet will live with us, and everyone will know that she is our first dalliance, which is why neither of us will mind about her being around to keep the other of us satisfied as well."

"Is that how it is?" said Matirni… _well Potter probably, if anything else Luna had said was to be trusted._

Matirni smirked, actually it was more of a leer, and kissed Luna again.

It didn't last nearly as long this time, Matirni pushed Luna away and sat up, "how old are you, and do you have family?"

"I'm twelve," said Luna, "my Da prints _The Quibbler_, my Mum died in a charms accident, when I was very small."

Padma winced, in those last two years of the war and about the first year or two afterwards, "charms accident," very possibly was a euphemism for, the collapse or malfunction of an illegal set of amateur wards.

Which would have made Luna less than three, probably less than one.

"What will your Da think of me?" said Matirni.

"I already told him we would marry," Luna said, "he said he'd think about it and wanted to know what you thought, I told him I hadn't told you yet, just noticed that you were beginning to worry about who would make a good Lady Potter."

"Hmm," said Matirni, "why _did _you wait until now anyway?"

"I didn't want to sound like the fan club girls, and I didn't want to pretend not to know because then when you found out you'd have thought I'd been hiding or tricking you or something, but I didn't want to worry you. But I also wanted to tell you so that you could stop worrying and… and anyway when I saw you just before the last train ride and it was only a third of our futures, after the train ride it had changed to almost all of our futures but Da was there so I went and I didn't have time to decide what to tell you."

"And now?" said Matirni.

"Now in _all _the futures where we live to 1997, we get married."

Matirni held still for several seconds.

"Who are my other options if you don't make it?" said Matirni. _What a morbid thing to ask._

"Tonks, Riddle, or either or both of a pair of muggle twins named David and Margret Dersley."

"Hmm," said Matirni, "any recommendations?"

"If you go with Riddle make sure he knows early that you know he killed me, and that you're choosing to be with him anyway. It will set him straight and the relationship will be a lot less abusive. Or abusive differently, or something, it's hard enough to understand let alone describe, if you end up with the twins, let them know you're magic beforehand then let them insist on letting them see magic, then do metamorph tricks, then let them come up with the idea of sharing you. If you want to be shared. If _you _suggest the idea they'll be creeped out and never forgive you for being magical, and probably tag team abusing your kids."

"Oh, my, any warnings about Tonks?"

"No," said Luna, "except … well you know how you feel when she asks you to change your face to show her someone,"

"Yeah,"

"Well people ask her that all the time, but not for informational purposes like she asks for, they ask her to be celebrities and say things in their voices or make their gestures while in their shapes, it makes her mad."

"That makes sense," said Matirni, "I'm sort of glad that only a few of my friends know."

"It will make her even more mad when they start asking her to be celebrities so they can sleep with them."

"Oh ew," said Matirni.

Luna nodded, "don't ask her for celebrities, don't ask her to give up morphing long enough to carry a baby until you've contemplated the same thing."

Matirni shivered, "I hadn't even thought about that."

Luna nodded.

"What about you?" said Matirni, "if I die who will you end up with?"

"Neville, or either of the Scamander boys."

Padma felt a twinge of … something, she'd thought Parvati and Neville were … seeing each other.

On the other hand, how many years in advance _could _Luna see. And how violent was this fractional future where Potter died.

"I don't know the Scamander boys," said Harry.

"You wouldn't yet. They go to Beauxbatons."

"What about me?" said Padma. And instantly felt guilty for interrupting their … first date or whatever it was. Job interview?

As Luna turned to look at her and her grin froze and melted into horror. "I shouldn't tell you."

"What? Why not?"

"If I tell you now, no matter what I tell you, Riddle kills me or has me killed."

"But why?"

Luna closed her eyes and set her jaw before opening her eyes again, "if you ever seriously contemplate leaving Draco, ask me again, we'll talk then."

"Hmm," said Padma, "alright, I suppose that's sufficient." Padma was desperately disappointed, but … she'd been happy this morning without knowledge of the future, perhaps she could continue to be, it wasn't like she wanted to know, 'do this, don't do that, or Riddle will kill you,' or kill Luna."

"In fact," said Luna, "Don't tell anyone, especially not Riddle, that I'm a seer."

"Ah," said Padma.

Luna relaxed into one of her more normal thoughtful frowns, "at least not this week."

"Alright," said Padma.

Luna relaxed farther, and several seconds later, she and Matirni were kissing again.

…

Someone knocked. Without breaking the kiss Matirni threw the counter charms at the door to clear the window and unlock the door.

_Wordless? Hmm, Harriet had been holding out on her__… Or Lord Potter was a bit more advanced than anyone advertised._

Hermione came in, already changed into robes. That was a good idea, It's what Padma would have done if she'd been locked out of her compartment for so long.

Hermione saw Luna in Matirni's lap and almost tripped. When she was safely in her own seat she turned to Padma, "what is the story there, dare I ask?"

"Harry Potter traded places with Matirni for the week, needed to have a meeting with Draco, meanwhile Luna can see through his disguise and…" Padma shrugged and waved an indicative hand.

Hermione glanced at them then quickly looked away, "something else, almost adding up but not quite."

"Harry and Matirni are metamorphmagi."

"Apparently! Something else… does it run in families?"

"Tonks and Potter are both Blacks, Potter and Matirni are both Evenses. I'd bet yes,"

Hermione nodded, "Thanks, I think that was it. Why are they kissing again?"

"Luna said she could see them getting married, shortly after his seventeenth," explained Padma, "he … stopped trying to fight her off."

"I see," said Hermione and made a strange face, "they have … six minutes to stop that before I tell them to find a different compartment,"

"Something doesn't add up," said Padma, "Why his seventeenth, not her seventeenth, she's the younger one."

Draco's face appeared in the peep hole, and a moment later the door opened and he came in and sat down, in his normal spot: by the outside window facing backward. In this case next to Matirni.

If Padma had been smart she'd have picked the spot that Matirni was in, or the spot across from him that Hermione was now in. But that was Hermione's normal spot so…

"So what's the topic of conversation these days?" said Draco.

He was amazing at ignoring the elephant in the room.

No one spoke.

"So Hermione," he said, "what did you do for Christmas?"

Hermione told him, it sounded rather tame compared to dancing in terribly elegant robes with several Lords and Heirs in front of the assembled hosts of slytherin and rumoured previous death-eaters. Padma wondered if Buddhism could help these people simplify their lives drastically enough to fix anything. She didn't think they'd be able to handle Hinduism, and would probably go about using it for an excuse to make things _more _complicated.

"How about you Luna," said Draco still without seeming to notice that her mouth was otherwise occupied.

Luna sat back and looked at him without getting off of Matirni's lap.

"After Da got the Yule issue out, He and I hunted snorkacks, though mostly we found burrowing spiny shrubhogs and roasted them for food."

They stared at each other for several seconds. Draco said, "you ate chestnuts that you gathered and roasted yourself," he nodded to himself, "that sounds nice,"

Luna nodded back, "It was nice, you should have been there, you'd have enjoyed it."

"I probably would have," Draco agreed.

"Did you really have him who was whom became Voldemort at your Yule party?"

Draco blinked, "Not that I'm aware of,"

Luna shrugged, "you need to become more aware,"

"Probably so," agreed Draco, "Where did you hear that such a person was at such a place at such a time?"

"I didn't hear," said Luna, "I saw,"

"Would you recognise him again?"

"Yes," said Luna, "And so will you, anything that turns to flaming blood when Matirni touches it, and anyone who won't hold her hand when he dances with her."

Draco shivered, "that is quite an accusation, where did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear it," said Luna, "I saw,"

Draco shuddered, "How bad is the damage?"

Luna got up and pulled out the magazine she'd been reading earlier and handed it to Draco. Draco thanked her and sat back to read with an air of concerned calm.

When Padma again looked up from her book Luna was curled up on the bench, between Matirni and the door, with her head in Matirni's lap. Matirni was reading her own book and running her fingers through Luna's hair.

Padma wasn't sure if Luna was asleep or not, she was that relaxed. Padma suddenly remembered how tense and fragile Matirni had been just before holidays, and how much a hug had loosened her up, for a day or two at least. And Luna always showed signs of being homesick, but couldn't identify it as such. Padma had guessed that she wasn't getting enough hugs at home either, but to see her relaxed enough to _close her eyes _was when there was both light and company. _Yes, Luna needed human contact, and apparently Potter as Matirni was good enough, for the moment at least._

.

Half an hour later Draco was no longer looking concerned, just smiling wryly and turning pages at random intervals. "Huh," he said, Padma looked up to from her book in time to see him stick his finger in for a marker, and glance at each of the other members of the compartment, then at the page again, "It says here—" he announced and frowned, then looked at the magazine cover then back at the text under his finger.

"Matirni, What day is today?"

Matirni marked her place and cast the time telling charm with enough power for the day and date to show clearly and for all of them. "Second of January," she said, "1993"

"You needed the time telling charm for that?" said Hermione.

"When someone wants to be absolutely sure," said Matirni, "I don't work from memory,"

Draco nodded as if everything was as it should be, "This magazine is dated four days ago," he said, "yet it claims to have information for events happening … all this week. Luna is this _normal _for this magazine?"

"Yes," said Luna without opening her eyes, "which section are you on?"

"Gossip," said Draco, "though it's titled something a bit more emphatic, and the items are long and convoluted enough that I wouldn't expect any but a Ravenclaw would work out what most of them mean before they happen."

"Give us an example," said Padma with the sensation of just having intentionally stepped on a rake because her hands happen to be full and she didn't have any other way to get it out of the grass.

"Here's today's: Sunday the second: the one who was to be sacrificed to bring a dark lord back to life offers a concubine to the one who was to be sacrificed to keep that dark lord in power. The boy-who-lives determines all honour debts to him by House Black to be paid in full. The wedding is tentatively planned for his seventeenth birthday. Parenthesis: Editor expects letters of apology and explanation from _all three_!"

"I already wrote mine," said Luna, "do you two want to see it for reference."

Draco put the magazine down, "Potter, are you really betrothed to that … creature."

"Sort of," said Matirni, "_Don't _call her 'creature'."

Draco cleared his throat but looked like it would take awhile to put his thoughts into words.

"You can't be 'sort of' engaged," said Hermione, "either you are or you're not… Unless you mean it was a betrothal contract instead of a proper engagement."

"No," said Matirni and morphed into Potter, "I mean she didn't ask me to marry her, she declared her vision of my future includes her, and the month if not the day of our wedding, Oh and before that she snogged me."

"That sounds rather heavy handed," said Hermione.

Potter nodded.

"Are you accepting that?" said Hermione.

"Not exactly," said Potter, "well I've sort of accepted her as a snogging friend even though that's not what I was hoping for."

"What were you hoping for?" said Hermione.

"Another hugging friend," said Potter, "so far the only people at Hogwarts I feel safe hugging are Draco and Padma, and now Luna."

"Why don't you hug all the girls?" said Hermione, "a lot of the girls… Oh,"

Potter nodded, "except the slytherin girls, and not metamorphs who might turn male in the middle of a hug just to mess with you, and definitely not matamorphs who can't be trusted not to randomly trade places with their male cousin on the holidays."

"Why would you do _that_?" said Hermione.

"We've been trading places every time we visit each other for most of our lives," said Potter, "Shortly after we were extras together in a production of the Prince and the Pauper, in fact. We both thought the other was the pauper and was under less pressure to conform to various inexplicable and arbitrary modes of behaviour insisted upon by the surrounding adults.

Padma had accidentally been watching Draco when Potter said that last and realised that Draco believed him to be half lying. Which didn't mean he was, just meant that someone had told Draco an alternate explanation and Draco preferred it to … 'trading out every holiday.'

"So … I'm not sure I'm actually male, just … the name I was born with is… and anyway," Potter blinked for a second, "to answer your and Draco's previous question, I have tentatively accepted, depending on the results when I do find the time to do a thorough background check on, he tilted his head sideways.

Padma understood him to mean Luna.

"She's twelve," said Hermione, "what do you think a background check will turn up? Her name and birthday?"

Luna didn't open her eyes, just recited in a bored voice, "Name: Luna Lovegood AKA Loony AKA Lovegood's poor crazy daughter, AKA Lovegood's crazy seer, AKA Padma's little pet, and some other things," Luna's wooden voice cracked on the middle alias. "Born," she continued, "May 2nd, 1981 2:17 am. Lost her mother August 8th 1983, 4:34pm, said her first sentence October 30, 1981, 'Ma'er 'I'i'in 'omorrow,' Da _still _doesn't know what I meant, but he recorded all my early statements if he could determine at least one word was a real word."

"Master visiting tomorrow?" said Draco, "you predicted the Dark Lord's attack on the Potters?"

"No," said Luna, and hugged Potter indicatively, "I predicted Harriet Matirni,"

Everyone blinked.

"Anyway I didn't start speaking clearly for another year or so after that, like normal children. And it took Da several months after to realise that I was a seer," Luna shrugged, "He still checks up on my predictions and docks my allowance a sickle whenever I'm wrong."

"How often are you wrong?" said Hermione.

"About twice a month," said Luna.

Internally Padma scoffed, but restrained herself from saying anything cutting, Hermione seemed about to agree with her, and then said, "wait a moment, twice a month out of how many predictions per month?"

"I usually only give him one or two interesting ones for each day, that way I can choose the surer ones. Otherwise I'd be closer to only right a third of the time, It's not like people don't change their minds several times per day. Explaining predictions a week and a half in advance is difficult, once it's pinned down with words and dates the way Da likes them they turn into flies and buzz away. Not like Potter noticing me and understanding that we are each other's optimal choice for life partners. Which he _still _hasn't done. But there are fewer and fewer futures where he does not eventually." She turned back to Potter and they engaged in a glaring contest, which Luna broke with a shrug, "You usually think much faster than this." And she kissed him _again_.

"Wait a bleeding second," said Hermione.

To Padma's surprise, Luna did.

"What?" said Luna.

"You're twelve," said Hermione.

Luna shrugged, "Yes,"

"And you … you're … you're kissing him."

"When you live an additional seventy to a hundred and seventy years every time you meet someone new, do you think it really matters how old you look on the outside."

Silence.

And into it Hermione whispered, "_Abomination _I name thee, Alia Atreides of Arrakis."

Padma looked at her, no one else seemed to notice.

"Oh," coughed Draco, "does that include their time in the shower?"

"Why wouldn't it?" said Luna.

"No wonder you don't care that Potter's gender is only skin deep," said Draco, "No wonder that your father intends to let you marry at his seventeenth rather than yours, no wonder that…"

"You may say it," said Luna.

"I lost my train of thought," said Draco. Padma doubted that, but she respected him for keeping whatever it was out of the general conversation.

Luna shrugged, "anyway, Da would let him marry me this summer, if we asked. Matirni won't let us. Neither would you or Padma or your Mother if we needed to ask for your advice out loud when we can see each answer in all the futures where we ask for it. Neither would Mrs. Matirni, if we asked her to come, which we will, but she won't, she won't like Da until several years after the second baby is born."

"Speaking of wise friends advising us to pander to public opinion," said Potter, "I think it would also be wise for us to not snog in public. Even I can see that listening to you explain to many many close-minded or otherwise uninformed people why your wisdom is based on thousands of years of their possible experience could get tedious very quickly. Even if most aren't as violence prone as a certain transfer student."

Luna turned to stare at him for several seconds, "I see what you mean, I forget how tedious other people find living through the same thing over and over, you'll probably need to keep reminding me of that several times a year."

Potter frowned, "am I to take that prediction as permission to do so when it seems necessary?"

"Yes," said Luna, "or whenever it seems optimal,"

"Alright," Potter frowned.

"Yes," said Luna, "I await your time and/or lease,"

Potter frowned harder then smirked "how about tonight, after the feast," his hand pulled something from his pocket.

"Thank you, milord," she said taking it from him and shoving it in her pocket, "I'll be careful. And make sure Da never prints about it."

"I would appreciate that," said Potter.

Luna nodded seriously.

"Was that the Death Cloak," said Padma.

Luna nodded and looked the most solemn Padma had ever seen her, like they were speaking of the holy grail.

"Potter," said Draco, "Merlin! Potter."

"Huh?" said Potter.

"Luna, could you … leave us for a minute?"

Luna stared at him for a second, then sniffed and made her way out of the compartment and paused a moment outside the door.

Padma had been ready to interpret the sniff as disdain until she saw the look on Luna's face. 'About to cry' was a more likely option. Padma almost went after her.

"Thanks, I think," said Luna and closed the door.

Potter and Draco hit the door with simultaneous locking and silencing charms.

"What's up?" said Potter.

"You gave her your _cloak_?" said Draco.

"I _lent _it to her."

"It amounts to the same thing if she doesn't give it back," said Draco.

"It will come back," said Potter, "it always does, even if it passes through five hands and two generations first, when its true master appears, its current bearer returns it, even when they don't know why. I hadn't figured all that out earlier, or I'd have lent it to you more easily."

"Oh," said Draco.

"I'm sort of glad I didn't though, if you'll forgive me for saying so, it gave you an excuse to learn the disillusionment charm, which made me pay attention and learn several things stronger."

"How much stronger,"

"Two that blur less when you move and a dangerous rune array for a type of amulet called 'the silence of forgetfulness,' or just 'the silence'."

"The one that makes it oddly likely to be executed by the mob the next time you show up without it. Yeah, no thanks."

"Yeah that one," said Potter.

"Ok, never mind that," said Draco"do you like her?"

Potter frowned, "I can't say my feelings for her have crossed the threshold into 'like' yet but she's definitely growing on me very rapidly."

Draco nodded, "And yet you loan her your cloak on nothing but the promise of a kiss?" he shook his head, "it doesn't scan, Potter, what's come over you?"

Potter shrugged, "Matirni is paranoid for my secrets and to keep track of my things. Luna proved she already knows my secrets, I guess you weren't here for that, she's made several testable predictions that I intend to pay attention to, though perhaps less than she claims her father does, since I don't have money riding on it. Or not yet."

Draco shook his head, "You have your entire fortune riding on her if you marry her, or your entire reputation riding on it, if you let her go around telling people that you're betrothed and then don't marry her."

Potter nodded, "Point taken. I've lent her my cloak which is the _only _thing of mine I can trust to come back on its own, not counting Matirni I suppose, but she's not _mine_ in the same sense."

"So you're still being paranoid, just differently…" said Draco, "because she's weird enough to need a different method?"

"Partly," said Potter, "also she offers herself as a solution to a problem that's been bugging Harriet and I since the week your Mum became headmistress."

"Which is?"

"Who I could marry who wouldn't mind the rumours of Matirni hanging around," said Potter, "Speaking of, not that I care, but the Wizengamot will: what's her blood status?"

"Pureblood," said Draco, "and half the other pureblood girls this generation who were raised on your life story would welcome an arranged marriage with you, even if it meant having Matirni hanging around, especially if she came as a loyal retainer they could send on errands like a house elf. You could have your pick of them, just let it be known that Matirni is authorised to negotiate such a contract and see who shows up."

Potter shook his head, "When Harriet finally got around to admitting she was a metamorphmagus, no one showed up and asked to see him, she and I have both said multiple times that she was authorised by me to negotiate _anything _in my name, no one has shown up, no adults have written."

Draco frowned, "First of all Matirni presented it as if the ability was the bane of her existence and all frivolous requests would be mocked and ignored. Also didn't Mum say something about an increase in the number of letters that were showing up for you?"

Potter blinked, and rubbed his forehead, "Merlin's seaweed-draped hat, I'm _emancipated_. I'd better arrange with your Mum to have the oversight of that ongoing little fiasco turned over to Harriet and I."

Draco grimaced, "Yeah, you probably should."

Potter took out Matirni's appointment book and scribbled in it for a while, finally he looked up, "you were telling me about her father."

"I was?" said Draco.

"Or rather I asked about her blood status, and you said 'pureblood' in a tone that implied that there is a reputation for dark magic associated with the family."

Draco cleared his throat, "reputation yes, dark magic no, her mother dabbled in charms and runes, it was widely expected she'd be an important spell inventor someday, and then she got married and pregnant instead. The uncertainty of the war probably had a lot to do with that, not enough money in spell crafting except illicit ward building."

Potter nodded.

"Her father is a follower of a sect that … hmm … is very caught up in the idea of the search for the deathly hallows, among other items."

Potter snorted, "does no one else know how to use a second year searching spell? I mean we… and your Dad…"

"With all due respect," said Draco, "the Houses of Malfoy and Black have been breeding for magical power for generations, most people can't cast the four points charm and have it find anything more than a half league away. Also Mr. Lovegood is a bit hung up on the printed word, even for a ravenclaw." Draco nodded to Padma and Hermione, "No disrespect meant, but there are people who end up in ravenclaw because they are book-happy, not because the actually _learn _anything from them. Anyway, Mr. Lovegood follows a philosophy about the meaning of the journey and the search, he doesn't actually want to find them _all_, just figure out from the pages of history who probably has each of them at the moment. He'd probably be appalled to have someone write in with a list, but even if someone did, he'd just go on searching for other important objects of power throughout history and legend. Or take the information as a series of hints in order to complete his own history of the owners each has had."

"Who _does _have them at the moment?" said Padma.

"Dumbledore, Mr. Crabbe, Luna, in that order," said Draco, "Don't tell Luna it would ruin the surprise."

Padma nodded, "you think she doesn't _already_ know?"

Draco blinked, "now that you mention it, … no I don't know. In fact, maybe she _would_ keep it from her father. What an odd thought."

Padma nodded, "when I had the diadem she didn't try to take it, she just … told Parvati enough that I didn't die from my foolishness."

Draco sat up straight and stared at Padma, "do you feel yourself to owe her a life debt?"

Padma frowned, "No, if she'd taken Parvati in hand and led her down to rescue me months earlier, then her actions might could be construed as honourable and heroic, but then I wouldn't have construed them that way, but as interference and theft."

Padma struggled with her thoughts for almost a minute more, "Living in her head must be very strange."

Draco nodded, and looked at Potter, "are you sure you want to be dealing with that?"

"I might need to figure out how to say something to her such that she knows I'll try to accept her advice even if it is _months _ahead of schedule. Assuming I can even remember it that far out of context."

Padma shook her head, "I think that she gives people advice that way. And the only reason she didn't for me, is because she knew I wouldn't listen and understand, and because it would ruin our friendship. Now that I realise that she could have kept me totally out of danger, I feel very strange about trusting her anymore. But… looking back the other way, she _seems _to have taken sufficient precautions to ensure my survival, and conversely to not alienate me as a friend. Which … coming back to my point of view seems to indicate that she values me not just as a life but as a friend."

"Are you people allergic to the word 'love' or something?" said Hermione.

"No," said Potter, "but talking about loving Lovegood feels like saying you love sunlight and breakfast cereal, or like stating one's awe for Shiva or rainbows, either it's feels trite like you're stating your preferences, or it feels like you're stating something about her, not about your emotions regarding her."

"Calling her a force of nature," tisked Draco, "Potter you've got it bad,"

"Ach shut up," said Potter, "You've told me about her parents, what about her family lines and or their magics?"

"They've been breeding for animal magnetism, seers, and idealists, all of which are generally thought to be impractical in the extreme, well animal magnetism can be useful. Anyway no one has seriously considered any of them for the Wizengamot in generations."

"I think I've seen her animal magnetism active in riding club, and her seer abilities today, tell me what you mean by idealists."

"Alright," said Draco, "they're considered one of the lightest of the light families, they advocate the next best thing to absolute authority for aurors, absolute perfection in the laws that those aurors are meant to enforce, and perfect honour in the politicians and bureaucrats who oversea it all. With no allowance for mistakes, and no expectation of the corruption that follows, all too often, with power that has no check or balance."

"I understand and disapprove of giving too much power to aurors or politicians, what is the problem with expecting laws to be perfect?"

Draco sat back and rubbed his cheek, "alright, the classic example, in the Jewish and Christian scriptures, God commands Moses to proclaim several laws, one of which is 'you should never murder.' Simple and straightforward, no? But in the annotations there are exceptions made for revenge on murderers, there are exceptions made for self-defence but only in one's own home, at night, when the weapon of availability is an improvised club. And _that _exception doesn't give the killer the right to go on with their life as if nothing has happened, instead it gives them the right to choose self-imprisonment in a city of sanctuary. Now, we can all agree (I hope) that 'thou shalt not murder' is an excellent statement of the value of human life, but as a law it leaves something to be desired. So we wish to add exceptions, the exception for executions is the most obvious it allows us to say murder is _so_ wrong that we wish to be able to punish it above and beyond most other crimes, next is of course exceptions for self-defence, but how big or small should those exceptions be, what should they cover?"

Draco shrugged, "if you make the tree of exceptions too great you need full time lawyers to follow you around explaining what is and is not an exception to the rule, if you make the exception tree too small or non-existent then you have to trust the judge to look at each case and decide if this case of revenge or self-defence is sufficient to be allowed. So perfection in simplicity means trusting the judge to interpret well after the fact, perfection in annotation means trusting the lawyer to explain it all to you before the fact, the sensible ideal seems to me to be the middle road, but there are idealists who advocate of all three varieties and probably more that I'm not aware of, and others who are dissatisfied no matter which of the three choices you offer them."

"If I pass muster with both Luna and her father," said Potter, "is Dumbledore less likely to cause problems trying to overturn my emancipation."

Draco blinked, "probably,"

Potter grimaced, "something to keep in mind, though not something to base a romance on."

Draco nodded, "But it makes sense to … make sure to present everything as above board, whenever you _do _go public."

"As soon as I'm sure, I'll come to you to help me plan that time line," said Potter, "Meanwhile… besides not kissing in public, what should I make sure to accomplish or avoid."

"I've been meaning to re-read all those books," said Draco, "but it's been a while and I've been busy re-reading to stay ahead of you about occlumency."

Potter nodded and relaxed, "am I right in assuming after the Yule ball that if I follow the style set forth in 'Family First' to the exclusion of that of 'Pureblood Way' it will be somewhat overlooked now?"

"Maybe?" said Draco, "in what regard?"

"I'd just rather re-read one tome, not two or four, for details that I didn't expect to need for several more years. That's all."

"Oh," said Draco, "I can't guarantee that would be sufficient, but if you're most worried about Mum and Lady Longbottom, it should be more than sufficient for the moment. Mr. Lovegood sounds more than accommodating at this point, as long as you write him that letter, and as long as everything is in the proper order, engagement, contract, marriage, heirs, etc. Not all mixed up like… like…" Draco shivered.

"I get it," said Potter, "What else do we need to cover and/or plan?"

"I have… one more observation," said Draco, "I don't want you to interpret it as your old friend being jealous of your new friend, because I'm not, in the sense that I want you to have as many friends and/or allies as possible. Especially to the extent that you share the power or influence your friends give you with me and mine, to the extent that any or all of us have congruent goals, etc. Instead I want you to interpret this as one of your several political advisers being extra paranoid, in the off chance that it is useful advice."

"I understand," said Potter.

"Does she act too much like … like you're winning her over even faster than she's winning you over?"

"If she can experience several iterations of our entire possible futures together in the time it takes me to be as many degrees more won over by her, that is what is to be expected."

"That's not what I'm getting at," Draco frowned, "if she _has _all that inside information, couldn't she just _act _exactly how she knows you will best respond to, without feeling a speck of the emotions she is portraying from a future she could steer both of you down, even though she's choosing a different one, such as one where you give her your cloak and then she returns to her father for a pat on the head and several sickles worth of candy."

Potter appeared to consider it for several seconds, Padma was about ready to come to Luna's defence but Potter held up his hand, "First of all," he said, "she's twelve not six, second of all she's made several missteps that inform me she's watching the whole time line and responding to all the people we each could become, not to who I am now and how to best convince me to respond the way she wishes. If she were playing me, which she no doubt could be doing if she wished, she could hardly be doing a more clumsy job. If she was in the habit of playing people the way you're suggesting, I think she'd have a huge collection of people who'd think they were her friends, and … very few people would know that she is at all out of the ordinary. Instead she sees what she sees and responds to the total, not saying one or two things here or there to steer people how she wishes them to go."

Draco nodded, "that's fine, and is a lovely scenario, but … that's not what Padma claims to have experienced,"

"Maybe it is," said Padma, "Maybe it isn't. She … I think she's learning how to play people and scenarios the way you're suggesting, but hasn't mastered it yet. I think only fear of death pushes her to work that hard, and very possibly the prospect of my death was the first time she had to try."

"Ah," said Draco, "that puts things in a new light,"

"Not to butt in," said Hermione, "but what is this 'close call' that Padma keeps referring to?"

Draco looked at Padma, "do you mind her knowing?"

"I believe that it is dangerous for certain wizards to know what happened, and is happening, but she's … a friend and I'd rather she be prepared and alert for what could come."

"Alright," said Draco, "do you want to tell her or would you prefer I do it."

"Go ahead," said Padma, "I'll correct you if you're being inaccurate by too great an amount."

"Alright," said Draco, "There was a half-blood orphan, possibly bastard, it's not clear, by the name of Tom Riddle Jr. He came to Hogwarts about fifty years ago, and before he left was already taking steps to become the next most powerful wizard after Dumbledore. Including constructing soul boxes, to keep him alive if his body should die. He is known to have done this to his own diary, a family ring from his mother's side, and Ravenclaw's diadem, though there is evidence that doing so to Ravenclaw's diadem may have been an accident. Eventually he became known as … as the dark lord Voldemort. He began to work to take over the country, he eventually he set a taboo on the name so that when people gathered to work against him, he would know where they were and could raid as quickly and as hard as possible, by the time people figured out what was triggering the raids, most opposition had already been dealt with or been cowed into frightened neutrality. It is for this reason he is more generally known as 'you-know-who' or 'he-who-must-not-be-named.' If you use the V word it may trigger flashbacks, at any rate you'll look disrespectful to those who lived through that war, and learned the hard way not to say it out loud. When he attacked the Potter's for an as yet unknown reason, he vanished, various theories include that he died, (as much as his soul jars would let him) or that he learned what he came to find out, perhaps about an interesting ritual or technique to increase his power. And left the country to pursue it without telling anyone of his intent, or warning his allies that in the process he would be releasing the imperious curse from many enemies, leaving them exposed to investigation, etc.

"Once he was gone the moping up took several months,"

"That is a very different picture of the war than what you told last time," said Hermione.

"Last time I told it from my family's perspective, this time I'm telling it as background so that you understand who was in Ravenclaw's diadem when Padma put it on and started figuring out how to use it."

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"Long story short," said Draco, "as Padma was learning to use the diadem, and was speed reading the library, He was learning how to use Padma. When he had enough control he took her to a secret place where he thought no one could interrupt him, and he began a ritual to sacrifice Padma's magic and perhaps life to recreate for himself a body to house the soul fragment that he'd earlier left behind in the diadem."

Draco looked at Padma for confirmation, she _didn't _want to talk about this part with anyone other than Draco or Da, but she also didn't want to lie by omission, "that leaves out all the types of control he tested or used, but it is accurate. Parvati and Neville found me by following advice from Luna. Parvati somehow convinced him to let me live and steal magic from the Salizar's monster instead. For some reason he went along with it."

There was silence.

"Alright," said Hermione, "thank you for telling me, who are we keeping this a secret from?"

"From known or suspected death eaters or sympathisers, for fear that they will restart the war," said Draco, "and … we generally don't mention it to Tom Riddle himself, because we don't want him to suspect how many people are alert to his existence and will stop at nothing to keep him from becoming a Dark Lord again."

"Wait," said Hermione, "This ritual worked, and he did re-create his body?"

Padma nodded, "and he left me alive, and he complemented Parvati for thinking rationally and helping him to improve his ritual, rather than just being morally uptight which would have only succeeded in making him kill her to keep her from interrupting, in which case I'd have died anyway. Draco's Mum said the same thing only differently. And enrolled him in fifth year, and is pretending he is his own grandson."

"OK, but why?" said Hermione, "Why leave him alive?"

"I'm not exactly sure," said Draco, "Mum tried to explain something about how murder and soul boxes worked, and it almost sounded believable, except it was based on how regular soul boxes worked, and we know a lot less about how the diadem mimics a soul box, or why it did. So we're sure, neither that he committed murder to create that soul fragment, nor that he even meant to leave it behind in the diadem."

"He did both, and meant both, I'm sure," said Padma, "at any rate he was willing to sacrifice me to come back."

"Ah," said Draco as if he had only just understood that point.

"What difference does it make?" said Hermione.

"The normal process of making a soul box requires the soul to be split by an act so much against one's values that a portion of the soul completely refuses to participate, separating and being left behind rather than continuing to be part of the whole. In a normal person such a fragment would be the part of the original soul _most incapable _of murder. Padma's point is that the fragment in the diadem was not so particularly against murder to have avoided sacrificing her long enough to think up the snake solution by itself or chosen to implement it. Which implies that… however many soul boxes he made, the diadem wasn't his first, and it's fragment wasn't the most 'pure' so to speak.

"I also was pointing out the converse" said Padma, "that once the snake solution was pointed out to him, he rushed to use it, not because he optimised against killing me, but because he optimised away from the ritual failing because I might not have be a sufficient sacrifice to have it succeed as perfectly as possible."

"Alright," said Hermione, "so … we're suddenly alright with the idea of killing him?"

"If that's what it takes, maybe," said Draco, "but better if there's another way. We just established what murder does to one's soul, even if one doesn't separate the parts before they can re-combine."

"Has it been documented," said Hermione, "what choosing _not _to act does to one's soul if one knows that the result of not-acting will also cause death?"

Draco flinched and sat back after a brief minute, "I don't believe it has, but I think it depends on how thoroughly one believes one knows about this cause and effect scenario, and how thoroughly one is convinced of one's responsibility to be the one who acts in the particular case."

Hermione nodded like she'd just won an argument.

"The only one I'd trust to advise me in such a case might be Luna," murmured Padma.

They all nodded.

"And I think she'd do her best to engineer her solution so that no one needed to die, not just the innocents postulated."

"All the more reason for Riddle not to know what she can do, or that we might remotely consider following her lead if she _did _order his death," said Potter, "I … I need to consult Harriet about all this," he went in his trunk for a magic mirror.

"I need to consult my mother," said Draco.

"I want to consult Luna," said Hermione, "does anyone mind if I let her back in?"

"No," said Potter and sent cancelling and unlocking charms at the door.

Draco followed suit as needed and Hermione went out. Padma went out too. Luna wasn't nearby so they started down the train.

Padma found her sister first, who she wanted to talk to a bit more anyway.

**{End Chapter 13}**

A/N: I know this was long and late. I apologise for both, but I decided I didn't want it to be any later. Though I might come back and tighten it up some more. The next one will also be long. You have been warned.

Also, as advertised, welcome to the T rated portion of the story.

As always, thanks for the reviews and the favorites.

~Bregalad

P.S.:

Yes, I know that children who are continually forced to experience the future don't act like Luna, or like jedi, but rather are often very difficult to differentiate from autistics. Which is not at all the symptoms Luna generally desplays either in cannon or here.


	37. 2-14: Debate club grows

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong. _

_Parceltongue finally makes an appearance in chapter 14 &amp; 15, so here's your warning that I'm punctuating it __§-like this.-§_

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Hermione checks up**

Luna was alone in a locked compartment reading her Yule issue of the Quibbler, since Draco still had her current issue. She'd waited long enough they should have let her back in.

None of them had high probability futures where they didn't let her back in, if they'd been _planning _on letting her back in.

So they must have already decided not to.

Or at least one of them had already decided not to. Which might amount to the same thing if that someone was anyone other than Hermione, the others didn't listen to her the way the other three listened to each other. And Hermione was better at unlocking charms than locking charms, so the others could have gotten out to let her in, if they had wanted to.

And they hadn't.

So they didn't want to.

So she found a compartment to be alone in. And she read her Quibbler and wished her father was rich and had enough extra time to teach her at home.

…

Someone knocked on the door, "Luna?" said Hermione, "I know you're in there."

Why would Hermione be looking for her? Hermione wasn't her friend, not yet anyway.

Maybe the others had sent her. Sometimes friends tell each other what to do, and Hermione seemed like their friend, sometimes.

Obeying orders had never gotten Luna any friends, except Ginny, sort of, maybe.

"Open up," said Hermione, "Luna, are you alright?"

Luna opened the door.

"I'm fine," said Luna.

"We're sorry we locked you out so long," said Hermione, "we got distracted discussing v—'you-know-who' and then Padma's escape from him and what's wrong with him."

Luna blinked, "You need to lock the door and make it quiet before you talk about those things."

"Right," said Hermione, "that's why we forgot to let you in, sorry."

"I see," said Luna.

"Anyway, Potter and Matirni are talking on their mirrors, Draco and his Mom are talking on theirs, and Padma went to talk to Parvati so … so …"

"So only you're here to talk to me?" said Luna.

Hermione looked confused, "I wanted … may I lock the door."

Luna almost tried to make a off colour joke, some people seemed to use them to make friends very very well, but it didn't look like that method ever worked on Hermione. "Yes, that's alright," said Luna. Also Luna didn't think Potter would like her making off colour jokes at anyone but him, and she wasn't sure he'd be alright with them 'in public'. Which might strange and sad, so many people liked them. Or it might be good for his mental discipline if he had to work harder to make other kinds of jokes.

Hermione finished locking the door and sat down.

"How did you find me," said Luna.

"Four points charm," said Hermione.

Luna nodded, so that's which futures they were in. That group of futures had not seemed particularly likely. But … apparently those four in a room together could perhaps be wagered upon to discuss absolutely everything any of them had on their mind.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Conversations were so much more tedious going the other direction. When Luna wanted to ask questions she could just think them and look at all the possible futures to see the most probable answers, but when other people needed to ask questions she had to sit still and wait for them to put them all the way into words and…

"Lord Potter is a metamorphmagus," said Hermione, "and so is his cousin."

"Draco isn't," said Luna.

"I meant Harriet Matirni," said Hermione.

"Oh, no," said Luna, "There is no Harriet Matirni."

"What?" said Hermione.

_Lie, now. Or distract her from her insecurities._

"I mean … what I mean is … metamorphmagi are always conceived as males, x and y chromosomes, there is another name for x x metamorphs but they are much less common and often never learn to use their power. But the thing is, metamorphmagi often develop a preference for the female shape, some even before birth, depending on how alert to their magic and their environment they are while in the womb, they almost always continue to stay predominantly female until age three or four, then they start expanding their horizons and therefore their repertoire. On the other hand in cases where their primary caretaker is their father or an older brother or godparent or nurse or anything, they're much more likely to learn to imitate that caretaker, and perhaps learn to prefer that imitation."

"I think I understand," said Hermione, "where did you learn all this?"

"I'm a ravenclaw, aren't I?" said Luna, "I can research. Especially when I find out someone I don't know is going to marry me and is a metamorphmagi with two names."

"You're serious about Potter being both of them, not … Matirni and him trading places like he says."

"Like Padma says, I know you don't have any futures where you meet both of them at the same time."

"Hmm," said Hermione, "alright, do I ever meet one of them not knowing something I told the other one?"

"No," said Luna.

"So even if there are two of them, I can simplify my mental model of the world by eliminating the extra."

"Also true," said Luna.

Hermione's futures simplified.

"There, isn't that better," said Luna.

"So which one of them is real?"

"They are both camouflage for the other depending on what they expect the danger to be. Fewer people would bother to manipulate Matirni if they only want to change Potter's mind, fewer people would chase Potter down dark alleys if they only wanted Matirni's purse."

"And both of them are male, regardless of which form they are wearing?"

"Both of them are _genetically _male," said Luna, "Just like Tonks too, but their shape is mostly decided by the sort of person they want to be, or think they ought to be, their genetics only determine the range within which they can work."

"Ah," said Hermione, "and … Matirni never really considered being Lord Potter until after she'd been in the care of Snape and Draco for several months."

"True," said Luna.

"But is Matirni really Lord Potter?"

"That's how she was named when she was born, but she's thought she was Harriet Matirni for so long that the naming charm shows both."

"What's the naming charm?"

"It's … the wizard version of the magic that lets mail owls find who to deliver messages, it's not quite as precise as what the goblins do to bank keys and things, that can even differentiate identical twins who share genetics. Even the weirdest ones who share names and wands."

"Hmm," said Hermione.

"Do you want me to teach you?" said Luna.

Her eyes lit up, and her futures simplified.

_Oh, is _that _how to make friends with Hermione._

So Luna taught her.

…

"So who knows that Matirni is Potter?" said Hermione, "And who is allowed to know?"

"Draco and his Mother, Professor Snape and … Padma will be allowed to know soon, but… I guess not yet."

"No one else?"

"Not even Matirni's Mom knows Harriet knows she's Potter."

"That makes me feel weird."

Luna shrugged, "Just call her whichever face she's wearing at the moment, I keep seeing that I need to pick up the habit but I haven't gotten the hang of it yet."

Hermione nodded, "That's fine, I guess."

**Debate Club gets personal**

"So," said Riddle, "first meeting of the year of the modern politics debate club is called to order. Welcome back to Hogwarts both of you, any new business?"

"I request that we allow new members," said Draco, "with a possible preferential treatment for those who have someone inside the club already, to sponsor them,"

Riddle sighed, "who do you with so sponsor?"

"The girl I'm courting, Padma Patil."

Riddle frowned, "she doesn't exactly like me, I made several miscalculations … before I 'was myself'."

"So we've heard, I think she's willing to overlook that. She seemed to indicate she'd been wanting to rescue you in spite of the fact she did not understand the danger to herself at the time."

Riddle raised an eyebrow, "that's … people aren't like that."

"What?" said Matirni, "people aren't nice? Or people aren't foolish about making offers before they know what's involved."

"People don't forgive me once they catch me at miscalculations that severe," said Riddle.

"I think," said Matirni, "you're lacking a large swath of family experiences that most people take for granted. People do forgive, and hope that the person they've forgiven will learn from their feeling of regret to avoid making similar mistakes in the future."

"That doesn't work," said Riddle.

"It works on emotionally smart people like Hufflepuffs," said Matirni, "the rest of us tend to need punishment in order to feel regret, and sometimes something a bit stronger to turn the regret into resolve to make better assessments, calculations, and decisions next time."

"You differentiate between emotionally smart and other kinds of intelligence," said Riddle.

"I do," said Matirni, "I don't claim much intuitive talent in that direction but eight or more years of apprenticing at the acting profession has given me something of an ability to model the reactions of others, helping me to predict how they will act even if I don't _generally _experience emotions as strongly as they seem to."

"Ah," said Riddle, "do you second Malfoy's motion."

"I do," said Matirni.

"Well that carries, unless I can convince you to enter into debate," sighed Riddle.

"What is there to debate?" said Matirni.

"Do either of these people _want _to join?" said Riddle.

Draco's head snapped to look at Matirni, "Luna?"

Matirni nodded then frowned, "How did you know?"

"Just a guess," said Riddle, "I don't want them here unless they want to be here and want to research and debate properly, we don't need dead weight that just asks what things mean and we don't need them distracting you from the topic at hand."

"I understand your point of view," said Draco, "and I'd offer some sort of concession along the lines of, no sponsoring of members who are still only courting, only serious engagements or contracted spouses allowed, except … seeing how well she holds her own here is precisely … well it would be a useful thing to know about her before I enter into such a contract."

"Ah," said Riddle.

"Ditto," said Matirni, "only she's a prospective spouse for Lord Potter."

"Are these girls purebloods?" said Riddle.

"Yes," said Draco, "and both Ravenclaws. Hi-ers is a firste, which I object to, but only mildly."

"Ah," said Riddle, "I propose a counter offer: non-members may apply to audit discussions for a month and apply to join if they still wish to at that time, and can convince one sponsor. After which they are provisionally members for six months. After which they must be voted on to become full members, which requires a simple majority of all full members. Likewise they can be removed any time before they are full members by a unanimous vote of a quorum."

"Cut both those times in half," said Matirni, "and I agree."

"Add a clause where even full members can be removed, or bumped back to non-voting provisional members, by a unanimous-except-for-them vote of all voting members." said Draco.

"Hmm," said Riddle, "How big a club are we really wanting to have?"

"It doesn't matter," said Draco, "If we get the rules right so that people know they have to act responsibly in order to stay."

"Of course," said Riddle, "what I'm getting at is, getting and keeping nine out of ten votes might be amazingly difficult, loosing nine out of ten votes might require a single large faux pas, loosing ninety nine out of a hundred votes might require an act of god, are we sure we want to say 'unanimous minus one vote of all voting members' for any of these things instead of something more practical like three-quarters majority of a quorum.

"I suggest," said Matirni, "that we set the quorum as two thirds of all full members who have attended in the last month. So … because I've heard sixth and seventh years get really busy and stop attending clubs."

"Ah," said Riddle, "so all the advantages of having a quorum rule, and none of the disadvantages. Or rather since the club exists for the benefit of the members of the club, if only a few people actually show up we can still regulate our members, but we don't need to go through the trouble of removing members who don't show up just to keep the quorum small enough to be effective."

"Suits me," said Draco.

"Alright I'll have all that added to the bylaws by next week," said Riddle, glaring at his dict-a-quill to make sure it was still getting everything.

"Can Padma and Luna still audit this week?" said Matirni, "or are there pending reports or debates that we want to finish before they are allowed in?"

"No pending debates," said Riddle, "all of us have pending reports, do any of us have any finished?"

"No," said Matirni, "I unexpectedly spent most of my hols shopping for formal gowns."

"Don't say that like you aren't thankful for my invitation," said Draco.

"I'm not ungrateful," said Matirni, "I had a wonderful time, and so did Lord Potter. But I look forward to the day when I stop growing and I can buy twenty gowns in six colours each and wear them in order and not worry about accidentally showing up for the same meeting in the same one twice, or any of the other things one mustn't do."

"Just be glad you aren't a muggle, their fashions change every season instead of over the course of a decade."

Matirni patted her forehead to show her opining of _that _idea. "It's not that I don't like fancy clothes," said Matirni, "It's that they take so long to buy or have made."

"Quite," said Draco.

Matirni suddenly smirked enigmatically.

"I _don't _have my report finished," said Riddle, "I've run into difficulty gaining access to the records I need, I can get in to see the ministry records on Saturdays with my Hogwarts papers, but I'm having trouble getting in to see the relevant muggle records. I'm not clear on if they want proof of nativity or proof of age or proof of something else, but they won't let me in without a photo ID and I'm not clear how those are even obtained."

"Talk to my Mum," said Draco, "or a muggleborn, Probably an older muggleborn first to get an idea how the muggles expect you to have gone about it, so you have an idea how to act about requests to see your various papers, then to my Mum for how wizards normally get similar documents."

"Noted," said Riddle.

"I've only finished the one report on wards: overload protection has only been commonly practised since the 1760s even thought the techniques were available from the early thirteen hundreds. If everyone assumes they will be wakened by the wards long before they give way, escape tunnels and and floo provided a way to escape long before the wards collapsed. It wasn't until the anti-apparition and anti-portkey charm was demonstrated that people began to consider the possibility of needing to survive the collapse of their wards."

"Noted," said Riddle, "And that was long enough before the attack on property rights that one may safely assume it's not connected."

"Seems like it to me," said Draco.

"Do we wish to revisit the debate leading up to the request for that report?" said Riddle.

"I'm good," said Matirni, "it was a throw away objection, and all my other points were defeated anyway, Draco's point stands."

"Thank you," said Draco.

"No," said Matirni, "Thank _you _for the history lesson."

Draco shrugged. It was one of the points Severus had driven home to them several times at the beginning, losing a debate isn't like losing a duel, the point of the debate is to learn, for that _all _sides must bring their best arguments, and may the best idea win.

It follows then that the 'loser' of the debate is usually the one who learns the most, and therefore is the 'winner' in that he or she gets the most return from the investment of the time and energy that the debate takes.

Riddle checked the agenda again, "neither Professor Snape nor Headmistress Malfoy have provided us with a list of new debate topics in almost a month, do we have any available from newspapers, current events, or gossip."

"I might have one next week." said Matirni, "Potter said something odd about the hearing for his emancipation and I want to check up what he meant by it."

"Oh?" said Draco.

"Are there a different levels of rights and responsibilities required from a newly emancipated thirteen year old, compared to a newly of age seventeen year old."

"Potter is twelve, you're thirteen," said Draco.

"That's hardly my point," said Matirni, "what I'm getting at is, does anyone ever bother to tell seventeen-year-olds what responsibilities they're taking up?"

"Oh," said Draco, "I don't know, it's probably a family by family thing."

"Hmm," said Matirni, "I agree in theory but in practice I feel like the family of Great Britain ought to notify its members what it expects of them. It tells kids who wish to be emancipated, apparently, but does it tell anyone else?"

"Hmm," said Riddle, "how much did he tell you about this ceremony?"

"More than Lady Malfoy told him going in," said Matirni, "Which seems like it was a ploy on her part," so Matirni gave a brief narrative, highlighting the questions asked, not Lord Potter's stumbling replies.

"I wonder if I should attempt this ritual," said Riddle, "you said he got a letter of emancipation or something to carry with him?"

"Yes," said Matirni, "I could show you a memory of it."

"We _seriously _need to get a Pensive," said Riddle, "Snape is still ignoring our request."

"How much do they cost?" said Draco.

"Over a hundred galleons normally," said Riddle, "I wonder if we could hire a seventh year runes pupil to make one for us. I'm sure any of us could make the potion."

"I don't mind attempting to talk Mum out of that much, and ordering it, but in that case it's mine and I take it with me when I leave seventh year."

Riddle pretended to look around for additional members hiding, "I don't see anyone who has a good reason to object to that, but where are you going to keep it, here? In your room? Are you going to lug it up and down to the dungeons every week or just once a month?"

"Hmm," said Draco, "add a bag big enough to accept it with an undetectable extension and anti-spill charms, and we're talking over three hundred aren't we."

"Bags that big aren't exactly practical," said Riddle, "you may be able to find one used at a great price."

"If you think I'm going to be carrying around a brand new pensive in an old beat up—"

"Who said we needed a _new _pensive," said Riddle, "they're not indestructible, but I've never heard of one wearing out in a way that wasn't easily remedied with a pen knife and a rune brush. That's why they keep their value. Also they tend to sit in offices and not move, not get carried all over creation. Though inside the protection of an extension charm and the right anti-spill charm, it might as well be sitting still, locked in a room, all by itself."

"Hmm," said Draco, "if we find one for less than fifty I'll buy it."

"If we find one for less than seventy I can contribute the difference," said Matirni, "but it will annoy me."

"And either Draco will owe you the day he takes it out of here," said Riddle, "or the club will reimburse you both, some day when we hate ourselves enough to start charging dues."

"Have we _had_ any expenses so far?" said Draco.

"Parchment and ink and one dict-a-quill," said Riddle, "all of which I've provided, so far, except we've shared the ink."

"So fifteen galleons?" said Draco.

"Where do you shop?" said Riddle, "two galleons total if that much, it's a used dict-a-quill."

"Even then," said Draco…

"Alright fine," said Riddle, "I found it abandoned and didn't turn it in to lost and found, Merlin."

"Ah," said Draco, "Actually, I wonder if the school sells the lost and found items that don't get claimed."

"I don't know," said Riddle, "It ought to, and if it does I'm writing a letter to the authors of Hogwarts a History and telling them they should mention it."

"Who should we ask, and which of us should ask?" said Matirni.

"I should ask," said Riddle, "If Draco asks he looks like a cheapskate or trying to cash in on some form of nepotism, if you ask it reflects poorly on your sponsor, if I ask, well, I'm just an orphan trying to keep my scholarship expenses in house, don't you know."

"I second the motion," said Draco, "and I suggest asking Filch first. If he isn't the one to ask, he's the one who would know without it reflecting to one of the teachers."

"Research so assigned," said Riddle, "any more business?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Then I move we switch to general discussion format, who's moderating tonight... Hmm, I think that's you Matirni. Here."

"Oh, wait," said Draco, "may I move that we invite our possible guests to audit tonight."

"Feel free," said Riddle, "but we have no debate points scheduled."

Matirni looked at the blank sheet of parchment Riddle had just handed her and put it down with comically narrowed eyes.

"All the more reason to invite them," said Draco.

"Hmm," said Riddle, "alright if it doesn't take too long." _The other option you idiots is adjourning the club and you can go hang out with your friends in some other setting._

Draco pulled out a mirror, "Padma?"

"Umm," several sound of fabric swishing and grinding, "Yes, Draco."

"Do you want to join us?" said Draco, "we're several classrooms down from the second year study room."

"Uhh sure," said Padma.

"Do you mind finding Luna also," said Matirni, "I expect—"

"I'm here," said Luna, "I'll be there."

"Alright see you," said Matirni.

"I'll get the door," said Draco and pocketed the mirror.

…

By the time the other girls appeared Matirni had transfigured two more arm chairs with note-taking-desk attachments on their arms.

Padma took one look at the position of Draco's parchments and sat to his right. Luna was left with the choice of two chairs, the one to Draco's left was obviously already Matirni's, the one to Matirni's left would be the one to the right of the desk Riddle was sitting behind, she ignored everything and just took the empty chair as if there wasn't a different way things could be arranged.

"So," thought Riddle, when they were all seated, "Here we are three, four, five purebloods by the most generous standards, and only one who was brought up to it. An orphan, a foreign princess, a second generation Lord, a muggleborn by the old standards, though pureblood by her own families' standards, and self sponsoring with a little help from her cousin and his allies, and a … what is your story Miss Luna?"

"What?" said Luna.

"Lost her Mother before she was a year old," said Matirni looking affronted, "her father taught her many important things, bowing and curtsying wasn't one of them."

"Oh," said Luna and sighed dramatically.

"Have you ever read _Family First, and Magic Follows_?" said Matirni.

Luna shivered dramatically, "that was an awful book," said Luna springing up and taking a step away, as if flinching away from the memory, "Padma read it to me about three months ago."

"What's wrong with it?" said Draco defensively.

"It made me cry," said Luna, "and it gave me nightmares."

"Good grief," said Matirni springing up and embracing her, "why?"

"Because the only family I have is my father," said Luna as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. It probably was.

Even Riddle could tell it wouldn't be the normal first choice to teach an orphan about bloodpureism. In fact the number of muggleborns who lived as orphans in their later life, if they did join the community… it shouldn't _ever _be a tutoring book for the first generation. Assuming it's title had anything to do with it's contents.

"That's not true," said Draco, "I'm your third cousin, you have several others here at Hogwarts."

"What?" said Luna, "you are?"

"Yes, definitely," said Draco.

"No, I mean," said Luna, "I didn't think anyone cared about third cousins."

"I do," said Draco, "I think everyone who tries to live by that book does too."

"Oh," said Luna.

"I assumed that since you didn't come to me, that you already had enough friends without me. I was very happy when you chose my good friend Padma to be among them."

"No," said Luna, "Padma was my _only_ friend until today, and … most of the ravenclaws and some of their friends treat me and talk about me as if I _belong_ to her, not like she's my friend, so I haven't been sure about her either."

"I want to be your friend for real," said Padma, "don't worry about how the others talk about me."

"Me too," said Matirni, "And so does Lord Potter."

"As does, your third cousin Draco Malfoy," said Malfoy.

Luna looked up, and brushed tears back enough to see, not acting ashamed of them at all.

"Ok, ok everybody," said Luna. And she looked around and found Riddle watching them all from the far side of the desk. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't worry about it," said Riddle, "we ran out of debate topics last week, so there's not much you're interrupting by getting this taken care of now."

"That's not what I meant," said Luna, "though I'm glad not to be putting you out."

"What did you mean?" said Riddle.

"I meant, complaining about having a little family still alive, when you don't have any." Said Luna.

"Yes, I see," said Riddle, "very perceptive of you, someday when you're grown and have a large family and you're tutoring your children in their responsibilities to the family, perhaps you should also consider writing a better book to introduce the topic to muggleborns who might be kicked out for their magic. Also halfblood orphans."

"Yes, I see," said Luna, she looked around again, "Potter and Matirni will help."

"Perhaps," said Riddle.

"I'm willing to propose a discussion topic," said Padma, "I'm willing to be voted down for reasons of … its emotional nature, for most of us present."

"Let's hear it," said Matirni.

"How far is family to be recognised before it becomes academic rather than a question of emotional connection and mutual responsibility?"

"I think it depends on how much ability one has to feel the emotional connection and if one has enough close family to saturate that," suggested Draco, "or if one must search farther out along the family tree before one finds enough names and faces to satisfy one's need for connections."

"I think it has to do with the mutual responsibility aspect," said Matirni, "I'm willing to acknowledge anyone who I expect will acknowledge me in return, or in some cases will acknowledge a mutual connection to help me discharge a responsibility for that intermediate connection."

Riddle looked around, "Do you have anything to add?"

Padma shook her head, "It is a very strange question for me, I am very close to my family, my close family I mean, and some cousins in London. I know that I have a very large family in India, but I grew up expecting to never get to meet any of them. Maybe someday I shall, I see new possibilities every day."

Riddle turned to Luna, "anything to add?"

Luna shook her head, though she seemed to weigh a heavy statement of some sort as she did so.

"Alright," said Riddle, "back to you Draco, do you have an idea how many connections on average people are willing to acknowledge, or conversely are able to track and appreciate? And how many you in particular feel an emotional connection for."

"I have no idea," said Draco, "I'd guess even the most gregarious maxes out at about three hundred, a lot of relationship things max out there for most people, and that's normal friendships, connections that feel like family instead is probably a smaller number. I probably feel a close connection to fifteen to twenty, some of them are toward members of client lines that have never been allied by marriage. I actually think I could stand to add another ten at least."

"Hmm," said Riddle. "What about you, Matirni?"

"You first," said Matirni.

Riddle shrugged, "what is there to tell, I'm an orphan, and there's nothing I can track down for extended family either way."

"And if I tracked down someone for you?" said Matirni, "how interested would you be? If they were emotionally competent would you let them in? If they were magically and socially competent would you ally? Or whatever the word is for … acknowledging a desire for mutual responsibility even if no need is ever manifested or no excess of resources ever grows large enough to share?"

"Hmm," said Riddle, "I'm not sure it is a fair hypothetical to pose."

"It's not a hypothetical," said Matirni, "the pureblood world on an island this small is interconnected and grows more interconnected with every passing generation, even if those old connections stretch farther and farther."

"It is _not_ a fair question," said Riddle more forcefully, still trying to keep a reign on his temper, for all Matirni's normal tact and alertness to her surroundings, she'd said three less than well calculated things so far tonight and if she didn't wake up she seemed ready to say something far worse, and to him directly this time, not in passing and while trying to talk to Luna. And why didn't Luna have a last name already, damn it.

Matirni let go of Luna and turned to face him full on, "I've been authorised twice, very specifically, by Lord Potter, I infer that he is getting impatient, but the topic hasn't come up, until now."

"What?" said Riddle.

Matirni sighed, "I … I can't do this, like this, does anyone mind if I channel him."

"No," said Draco as if he was bored with this question, "but I offer two sickles for the right to hold your wand for the duration."

"No thanks," said Matirni, "I guess I should clear it with him."

"Or just verify his wishes so that you can act in his name as he's already authorised," muttered Draco, still annoyed.

Matirni seemed to be flipping through a muggle wallet that had spaces for pictures, but instead of photos there were hand mirrors, she pulled one out, "Lord Potter, Matirni here."

No response, but she held it up to her eyes and stared into it.

Legilimency?

What an odd couple Matirni and he made.

Matirni clutched the mirror down to her chest and drew her wand and clutched it to her chest as well. And convulsed slightly. Much too violent for a shiver, therefore it _must _be the next thing more violent.

She opened her eyes and they were bright emerald green and her forehead was rippling to show creases and scars and a uncharacteristic bit of tan.

Riddle grimaced at the sight, Lord Potter wasn't especially unattractive but the transformation between the two was … disconcerting to say the least.

§-Cousssin of the deathh ssstone, I ssee you. It is I, your cousssin of the death sskin. Do you ssee me?-§

Ah, that is _not _what he'd expected to hear.

§-I hhear you, cousssin, perhapss we can disscuss what we ssee at a more private time, the princess can alsso hhear uss.-§

"Very well then," said Lord Potter, "Contact my retainer at your leisure," and his features retreated from throat and chin and eyes, and a moment later from the rest of Matirni's face. After a second her lips trembled and she put her wand and then her mirror away.

"You are a show-off and an idiot," said Patil.

"Huh?" said Riddle and Matirni.

"He admitted to us on the train," explained Patil, "both of them are Metamorphmagi and they trade places whenever they feel like it. That's Potter not Matirni."

"But," said Matirni standing up and looking around. After a second she half way relaxed and started throwing all manner of privacy spells at the door and the walls and then at the space inside.

"Alright," she said when she was done, and her features transformed to Potter's all at once and much more gracefully, except there was still something about scars on the forehead in the middle of the transformation, though not when he was finished, "I admit that you are correct and that in here it's all within the family, but you could have _checked_ first."

"You're paranoid, and still a show-off and an idiot," said Padma.

Lord Potter sniffed, and turned to Riddle, "I apologise for the deception, but it is necessary, you aren't its target, but be prepared for that little skit whenever you wish me to respond in Parseltongue in public."

"Why?" said Riddle.

"Because Matirni _isn't_ a parselmouth, though she does have enough of my memories of speaking it that she can somewhat understand it sometimes. Also we'll do it certain other times when it seems better to have Lord Potter responding directly to the situation than trusting people to believe that her authority to speak in my name extends to whatever the topic is."

"Ah," said Riddle, "and the channelling thing _does _work?"

"It does, we're not sure where it came about, perhaps accidental magic, originally. At first we just exchanged memories without needing eye contact, though it was only certain memories, later we were separated against our will, which lasted until the first time one of us channelled the other. Now we can … hmm talk without mirrors, but we usually pull out mirrors to keep from looking insane."

Riddle grinned his amusement.

"And are you authorised to speak in her name as well?"

"I am," said Potter, "though it hardly ever comes up at my school, she's not a known celebrity, and her cousins there aren't as anxious about her as Draco, Snape and Dumbledore are about me."

"Ah,"

"Why do you ask?"

"What is her opinion on the debate topic?" said Riddle, "You _do _realise it's her turn to moderate, not mine?"

"Hmm." said Potter and frowned thoughtfully for half a minute, "She might be the only person I know with an emotional connection list over a hundred people long. How to say this, she maintains a emotional connection list, and an alliance list."

"What are you trying to imply?"

"That she'd have done equally well in hufflepuff, though she'll never forgive me for saying so."

"I think you have a distorted view of what Matirni can forgive," said Draco.

"Different levels of forgiveness," said Potter and waved it away.

"More to the point," said Malfoy, "I maintain both lists, one is for family, one is for business, especially slytherin business."

"Ah, yes, I see," said Potter.

"And you can't expect me to believe that you don't do the same," said Malfoy.

"Perhaps I do," said Potter, "but can't see myself do so, I maintain the alliance list and the emotional connections list manages itself."

"What does that imply?" said Riddle.

"Strong silent type who can't explain his feelings," said Malfoy.

"Oi, really Draco," said Potter, "take that back or I'll … I'll hug you."

"I won't take it back," said Malfoy, "and who said I didn't want a hug?"

They stared at each other for several seconds.

"I think you'd better hug your cousin so we can get back to the discussion at hand," sighed Riddle.

Potter stood and stepped to the corner of Malfoy's chair.

Malfoy sent Riddle an annoyed look, but after a second he stood and they embraced. Though there was something awkwardly formal about it. Not the way they'd acted together at the Yule Ball.

…

That topic lasted at _most _ten minutes more, and then they were out of topics again.

Potter was so good as to do his duty as moderator and announce the problem, and request suggestions.

To Riddle's surprise it was Patil who spoke up, again, "I have another one, it's likely to be even more awkward than the last."

"Don't worry about _that_," said Potter, "this is a _politics_ debate club, ethics and pureblood beliefs and other awkward things are often delved into, Please do contribute."

"It's about umm soul boxes."

"There are several _kinds_ of soul jars," said Riddle, "perhaps you could elaborate?"

"I've heard that there is one that … requires the owner or creator to kill or commit a similarly heinous act in order to split the soul, and the split off piece is the fraction of his or her soul that refused to participate."

"Is this really about politics," said Riddle.

"I'm getting to that," said Patil, "Does anyone know if it is the decision, or the action, or the transition from order to disorder on the part of the victim that powers the splitting of the soul?"

"You're trying to formulate a ceremony for creating a soul jar that does not involve sacrifice?" said Riddle.

"It is necessary for the _ethics_ of my proposal that no sacrifice is required except on the part of the creator. But we perhaps could leave that part aside as details, the point of my question is this, does the split off portion of the soul represent a higher quality ethical value precisely because it refused to participate in the decision to commit the heinous act, and could and/or should outside actors punish murder by forcing the murder to create a soul box, then execute the murderous portion of the soul and reincarnate the purified portion from the soul box?"

"That is a large number of hypotheticals," said Riddle, "presuming this procedure is intended only for convicted criminals who have already committed the act, and are already going to be executed, and a non-destructive ritual to 'reincarnate' from the soul box, I'm not seeing any ethical problem with permitting the experiment, but it would be just that, an experiment, I'm not sure the other answers are known, if it is the decision or the act or the sacrifice that causes the split, if the split is random or meaningful, if the fragment is of higher purity for having been filtered. Does anyone else have any insight?"

"If we're assume all her statements are true," said Draco, "and that the procedure is deemed ethically preferable to regular execution, it occurs to me that the dementors kiss leaves the body alive, perhaps ready for the soul box or jar to be reintroduced without need for extraneous rituals and sacrifices."

"Nice one," said Riddle, and shuddered.

Everyone else cringed, except Patil, she sighed and relaxed. _So was she just trying to get something off her chest and was thankful that she was being taken seriously. Or was she really reserching whether to kill him. Or was she __… looking for forgiveness for allowing him to bring himself back into existence._

_Probably she was just __… being ravenclaw about an interesting experience she'd had recently._

"My understanding of the killing curse," said Potter, "is that to cast it is murder and is always murder, not revenge, not self-defence, not culling the breed."

"That is how it is _taught_," said Riddle, "but hate is _not_ the only, nor even the _optimal_ emotion, it was invented to slaughter small birds for the cooking pot without shattering their skeleton or polluting their meat with their entrails, the optimal emotion to power the killing curse is said to be a sort of refined selfish indifference."

"Do you know what that means?" said Draco.

"No," said Riddle, "I just know that mere anger is not sufficient."

"That's not what I meant," said Draco and gave him a look that was either intended to imply Riddle should not have admitted to attempting the killing curse either successfully or not.

"It seems to me then," said Potter, "all the more reason to execute people known to be capable of casting it, it's one thing to manage to value a particular life in the negative, it seems a very different thing to devalue a human life to the same as any other animal."

"Do you really mean human life?" said Riddle, "And not hmm, 'witch or wizard's life', or perhaps 'being's life'?"

"I certainly mean to include at least squibs," said Potter, "I intended to include all beings and perhaps beasts of 'near human' intelligence as well."

"Alright," said Riddle and sat back, "who's next."

"I wasn't finished," said Potter, "what I meant to say, is that if only the act is necessary, especially if the act can be simplified to casting the killing curse, can we have them casting the curse at an apparently restrained victim behind a disillusioned wall? Or some other barrier that will keep them from realising that the act is meaningless while still protecting the victim?"

"Ingenious," said Riddle.

"But if the decision and act do the filtering," said Luna, "all the rest of the presentation become part of the filter, suppose you brought aurors in, explaining that it was a test, or that they were being awarded a special clearance that required them to have soul jars for immortality or whatever, when they complied with the order to cast the killing curse, that compliance to the hierarchy would also be part of their decision to kill, and therefore also part of what got executed and removed to make way for the purified soul fragment that refused to kill, even under orders and the offer of a promotion. They might be good people after that, but they wouldn't be useful as aurors."

"I sort of expected this to be used on everyone except aurors," said Potter, "but your point is still valid, if it's a government program for administrators, let us suppose, we might remove the loyalty to the government that they are supposed to serve."

"Also similar problems for legislators," said Draco, "the essence of a good law is that it identifies with not just society as a whole, but with the candidate perpetrator, offering a sentence which as closely as possible balances out whatever is meant to be gained by breaking that law. Creating legislators too perfect to consider committing a crime would very likely lead to them being unable to identify with those they are meant to dissuade from doing harm, you could very likely end up with very fine sounding laws that don't particularly interface with the real world and its problems."

"So," said Potter, "except in the case of an auror operation fronting as a criminal recruiting operation, convincing random citizens to commit murder is going to create more problems than it solves."

"I think even there it runs into trouble," said Riddle, "your average citizen doesn't just turn to a life of crime, they have to be driven to it, by a desire for something specific, usually feeding their family."

"So we'd be turning out deadbeats that wouldn't hurt a fly but wouldn't lift a finger to help themselves or their family either," said Potter, "alright, I think we can safely agree that Luna's point stands. If the decision filters, the presentation of the decision becomes part of the filter, and none of this looks good."

"Then does it follow," said Malfoy, "that even if we were using the rest of the procedure on other convicted murderers that we'd have to interview them very carefully regarding their motive before we offer this means of rehabilitating them."

"Perhaps," said Riddle, "the other problem with so straightforward a system is that it might remove the element of deterrence from the equation."

"I think," said Patil drily, "that we already established that it might be a very drastic alteration to the motivations and personality of the convict. I think that after a year or two most people would understand that whatever kind of 'personality modification' the ministry had invented, was effectively just as bad for the continuity of one's 'internal narrative' as execution."

Riddle closed his eyes, and opened them again, "I like the way you think, I wonder whether it would take a year, or more like a decade. Rumours travel fast, but having a chance to meet someone you used to know, before they 'went bad' and then again after they have been 'modified' by the ministry might not constitute enough of a comparison right away."

The coo-coo clock announced the hour.

"That can't possibly be right," said Patil and drew her wand to check the time.

"No," explained Riddle getting up to stop the pendulum, "that only means we've been at this for two hours and we should stop before curfew."

"Oh," Patil looked again at the time, "What happens with debates still in progress?"

Potter cleared his throat, "I motion this debate is as finished as it can be without further research, and perhaps even experimentation, do we hear motions or volunteers to continue research and report back?"

Everyone shrugged.

"Are there objections to closing the debate?" said Potter.

Everyone shrugged.

"Shall we entertain a debate on actionable steps to take regarding our findings from this debate?"

"What would that even mean?" said Patil.

"Probably writing a letter to the Department of Mysteries explaining our theories, and our assessments of them, and proposing they divert a few convicts to see if we're at all close to correct."

"I see," said Patil, "I could do that, it was my idea."

"What excuse would we present for even being aware of or discussing this topic?"

"I was almost sacrificed as part of a reincarnation ritual," said Patil, "I am a ravenclaw, is someone seriously proposing that I would not have done research."

Riddle nodded, "what's the rest of our excuse?"

"When I suggested we invite you for Yule," said Malfoy, "My mother told me what you are and where you came from in excruciating detail."

"Ah," said Riddle, "and you Potter?"

"Matirni told me who you were thought to be, but it wasn't until Draco spelled it out on the train that I understood where you came from, and I inferred the Peverell-Slytherin-Gaunt connection. It pleases me to approach you as family rather than as mere ally."

"I might be your most distant cousin on the whole island, and you 'approach me as family'?" said Riddle.

"Your family connection can be traced precisely," said Potter, "that makes me feel close even if the connection is a very long one."

_Meaning we are both celebrities and heirs of great lines, not that __… well, being a celebrity increases the odds of being a useful ally, having a precise family trace also implies seeing the missteps of the other could form a more accurate translation for avoiding sub-optimal habits of thoughts in ones own mind, which could generate those missteps._

"Ah, I see, I still calculate that is illogical," said Riddle, "but emotions, I am led to believe, have their own logic."

Riddle looked to the next person in line, "And you, Luna who-hasn't-told-me-your-last-name?"

"Lovegood," said Lovegood, "I saw what you were before you escaped your imprisonment."

"What?" said Riddle "And you didn't—"

"That is between her and I," interrupted Patil, "and we will discuss it elsewhere and in private."

"Alright," said Riddle, "I accept that I was not the primarily wronged party."

"I thought I did well actually," said Luna, "You seem very satisfied with your new body."

Riddle wasn't sure what to think of that, "Perhaps we also should discuss that elsewhere and in private."

Potter sniffed hard.

Riddle looked at him, _doesn't want me taking his court companion in private, hmm._

_For the sake of the possible friendship that perhaps _should _be avoided._

"Speaking of, Potter," said Riddle, "are you sleeping in the slytherin _girls _dorm like _that_."

"I usually wear Matirni's face in such cases, just as she wears mine in the opposite case."

"Be that as it may," said Riddle, "perhaps it would be more apropos for you join me in my suite."

Potter was obviously against the idea, in fact. Though from the way he wavered, his principles seemed to prompt him the other way.

"Luna, what do you think?" said Potter.

_The way they've deferred to each other is already growing, and they aren't even betrothed yet?_

Lovegood gave them each a very assessing glance, and then nodded, "I think it would be good for each of you, perhaps very good. Yes, I give you permission to spend the night in your cousin's apartments."

"That's settled," said Draco, "I move that we adjourn."

"Seconded," said Riddle and Potter together.

"Please people," said Riddle, "bring debate topics next week!"

…

**{End Chapter 14}**

A/N: The next chapter will be about as long, after that things will hopefully settle down.

As always thanks for the favorites and reviews.

~Bregalad


	38. 2-15: In which Coincidences are Siezed

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong. _

_Parceltongue finally makes an appearance in chapter 14 &amp; 15, so here's your warning that I'm punctuating it __§-like this.-§_

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**In private**

Riddle felt a twinge of unease opening the door and letting Potter-as-Matirni in. Why in hell had he agreed to this?

Potter seemed oblivious to his unease and took a turn about the main room, glancing into the bathroom and the bedroom.

"I can transfigure another bed," he said, "but I'm not sure it would last the whole night."

"Start with that chair," suggested Riddle pointing to the only upholstered chair in the whole suite, "if it does untransfigure you'll at least be scrunched up in something comfortable before you slide off onto the floor."

"Nice," said Potter and levitated the chair in question out into the clear area of floor.

Of course the other option was expanding the bed, Riddle wasn't going to suggest the idea, but he wouldn't be disappointed if Potter had suggested it. _Hmm, perhaps tomorrow._

_What in hell was wrong with him?_

"Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Riddle corrected absentmindedly.

"Yes," Potter agreed too quickly, someone else had also been trying to improve his presentation, "What is it Tom?"

_Why are you acting so nice to me?_ Had been on the tip of his tongue, but the urchin had dared to call him Tom, so something else.

"What are your ambitions?"

"My main ambitions probably boil down to: protect my family, honour my obligations, be no man's pawn."

"In that order?"

"Well in my head they are all the same thing, 'be honourable.'"

"But you felt the need to spell them out."

"If I hadn't, you'd have immediately asked me to, so I broke them out the first layer. Should I go on unpacking them?"

"'Be no man's pawn' sounds ominous, where did it come from?"

"Hmm, Shakespeare and my family exposed me to the concept, Dumbledore's unreasonable interest in my life solidified it into an adult level goal instead of a mere child's sensitivity to an unfair unevenness in … scrutiny."

"I also have history with Dumbledore."

"Do I want to know?" said Potter.

"What do you already know?" said Riddle.

"Probably less than what is common knowledge, it hasn't been a topic of special interest," said Potter, "unlike the details of how you resurrected, which information was practically shoved in my face recently."

Riddle nodded, "Which details you've mostly kept to yourself."

"Matirni knows, Draco and Padma and Luna already knew."

"How?"

"Draco and Luna are Padma's friends, the Headmistress seems to have ordered her to tell her friends, probably both as talk therapy and to keep the secret from dissolving the friendship further."

"Right," said Riddle.

"Are you going to make something of it?" said Potter.

"I sort of wouldn't want to," said Riddle, "on the other hand there's the feeling that I might ought to protect myself somehow."

"Such as killing all witnesses, or getting the Department of Mysteries to announce you as the first success of their new personality altering technique?"

Riddle snorted, "wouldn't _that _be excruciating."

"Yeah," said Potter, "I'd change my name and transfer to someplace obscure on the continent, isn't there a very select apprenticeship academy in France or Spain that started Beauxbatons so that their recent graduates would have employment while they waited for real jobs to manifest."

"Thanks, that sounds _just _my style."

"Sorry," said Potter.

"Umm Potter?" said Riddle, the question wouldn't leave so he'd have to ask it eventually.

"What?"

"Why are you acting nice to me?"

"Why shouldn't I be nice?"

Riddle was mildly surprised. That the question hadn't netted him the point blank answer of what kinds of forgiveness or retribution he should expect that Patil Padma, Princess had given him with less provocation. Maybe another nudge or two would get the topic into perspective… Or would get the kid to draw his wand and start hexing… a situation Riddle had plenty of experience with, though not as much as gryffindor prefects tended toward.

"Theoretically my future self killed your parents."

"A: I didn't know them, though I'm fairly sure that they were heroes in their own narrative, B: your future self payed for that deed, though I would seriously consider executing his wraith if I am ever presented with the chance, not that I have an idea how, C: if Padma's theories are correct, you perhaps would not perpetrate that attack if you had been there instead of him, D: most importantly, given the way Dumbledore pressured Matirni, especially in regards to me, and Professor Snape in regards to everyone. It would not surprise me if your previous future self was manipulated into thinking he was acting in self-defence or something. War and intelligence attacks being what they are, and Dumbledore being who he is."

_A: No doubt. B: I could probably teach you how to do that execution. Though it would take an intensive course in Necromancy and Fidelomancy. But that is me you're talking about executing. I'm not in such a hurry to gain your trust as I'd need to be to help you with that little project. And you're kind of cute believing that you are too helpless to do me harm, I think I will leave that in place for a bit longer. C: Padma's theories have not been confirmed in the slightest. D: That hints again toward alliance that I don't mind helping you with._

"You think my previous future self was fulfilling one of Dumbledore's plots?"

"Maybe not the letter of it, but responding to stimuli engineered by Dumbledore for a particular purpose, perhaps for the purpose of manoeuvring him into an ambush, though perhaps not that precise one."

"I have a memory I wish to show you," said Riddle. _What am I doing, dare I show anyone this memory. Why Potter? What instinct it this trying to force my hand. It looks like friendship, but it can't be, it is too poorly calculated for his benefit, too strongly calculated for my humiliation. _

_What am I worrying about, the chances that he will understand it are low enough that the worst he might do are notice my humiliation, the best he can do is truly understand it and become my ally. _I can always kill or obliviate him if the gambit doesn't succeed.

"I believe that the headmistress would let us use the school's pensive if both of us are asking," said Potter, "though she would perhaps try to insist on auditing."

"Quite," said Riddle, "There are other options." _Though I seriously need to check the junk room, just in case, _"a pensive is not necessary when the memory is to be shared with only one other." He raised his wand to his temple and drew out the memory careful to copy and not to remove.

"I don't know legilimency," said Potter, "Or not proficiently well to trust myself to explore any mind other than Matirni's"

"There is another way," said Riddle, "look at the ceiling."

Potter stared at him, then at the skein of memory and then with an obvious effort to trust, complied.

"Did you know that the main ingredient of the potion of a pensive is the tears of two magical beasts," pattered Riddle, and dropped the skein into the hollow of Potter's left eye socket.

Potter tensed but seemed to infer the idea and flicked his eyelid enough to let the strand of silver light inside.

After a minute he resumed breathing normally and lifted his head.

"I…" he said, and rubbed the back of his neck, "Pensives are more comfortable," he said, "but that does seem eminently more practical for everyday life."

Riddle nodded.

Potters gaze turned inward again.

"Dumbledore," said Potter, "he came to introduce you to magic, and you let him see your treasures, and he … he didn't accept tribute, he rejected them and called you a thief. From his tone … it didn't even sound like he believed that you might have traded for or earned any of them."

Riddle nodded, "If he'd accepted even one, or accepted all of them and bestowed them as blessings to the others on his way out, that would have been … he'd have had me for a general, instead he has my eternal enmity."

"He has a disturbing idea that he deserves everyone to be his pawns," said Potter, "I've noticed it before."

"Yes," said Riddle, "That. Exactly that. And when I didn't turn out to be a particularly valuable pawn he burnt even what I did have as if to make me more grateful for what he'd be giving me later."

"What was up exactly, with the burning that didn't destroy them, and how did he find them in the first place?"

"I infer that he detected a trace of my magic in them."

"A precursor to soul jars, that young?"

"No," said Riddle, "It's just the minimum precursor to a tracking charm. Just one of the smallest bits of accidental magic, even squibs and muggles are capable of it I think, it takes hardly any magic, you carve your initials on something and imbue it with just enough power that you can find it again, or know when someone else moves it, or whatever."

"So he _knew _what sort of treasures would likely be in a ten year old's life's savings, even if your vault was an ancient wardrobe, and your treasure chest was an old shoe-box, and he took them away from you anyway."

"He burned my magic out of them, the only connections I had to anything, and he _ordered_ me to give them away."

"After you were more than willing to give them to him in exchange for a real connection worth having, but he threw it back at you twice over."

"Yes," said Riddle, and noticed that he was crying.

Which he hadn't done in six years. Or in fifty-six years, depending on how one counts.

"Damn the man," said Potter.

Riddle found he was hugging Potter.

And that Potter was hugging back.

"Just because he's next best thing to an all powerful wizard doesn't mean he knows the first thing about … about _anything,_" said Potter.

"He wasn't always known to be particularly all powerful," wheezed Riddle, (_wheezed, him, impossible! Yet true._) "that rumour started after he defeated Grindelwald." _How had Potter gotten this far under his skin? Why was he letting him? He could still feel the door with which he would normally block these sensations, but somehow they didn't hurt when Potter was the one stirring them up. Even if there was a raging infurno of older pains waiting there. Waiting to be used to fuel red curses or __… or shown to Potter to capture more of his sympathy?_

"And therefore, after he took our uncle's wand," said Potter.

"What?"

"Heir of the Peverell stone," said Potter, "as heir of the Peverell cloak, I state to you that a friend I trust has informed me that the most recent thief of our uncle's wand, is Dumbledore."

"That explains a lot," said Riddle. And he saw the opportunity, so he anchored his focus on that and drew it away from whatever this emotional upheaval was. "Do I detect a proposition regarding that fact?"

"The cloak has it's own sense of purpose and loyalty," said Potter, "I assume the stone and the wand do as well."

"Perhaps," said Riddle. Moving away from Potter and sinking onto his own bed.

"If I, if we, as rightful last heirs to the younger brothers were to resolve that the favour of the wand was ours to bestow, and chose who we deemed worthy of it, do you think it would abide by our wishes?"

"We might have to have our hallows with us when we made such a pronouncement," said Riddle, "it might be worth a try, who would you nominate for the honour?"

Potter moved to his own bed and began removing his outer layers of clothing, "Off the top of my head, Draco or Hermione."

"I've heard of her, what's her family and house?"

"Granger, she's muggleborn, or first of her line, however you like to say that."

"I may be the heir of Slytherin himself but pureblood prejudice is a landscape I navigate and a tool I use, not a belief I own," said Riddle, "I've heard enough of your arguments regarding Wizengamot oaths and citizenship oaths to infer that you are similar."

"Quite," said Potter.

"I'm partial to Malfoy as well, what does this Hermione Granger, first of her line, have to recommend her?"

"She's smart, quick, relatively powerful, and a gryffindor, since the wand seems to favour over-achieving gryffindor types, perhaps it would lend the undertaking more weight."

"Quite," said Riddle, "we'll have to deliberate some more, we need to research what the wand values, and I need to learn more about this Granger girl. And we both need to retrieve our hallows."

"About that," said Potter, "I believe yours is currently in the keeping of the head of one of Malfoy's client lines."

"What's it doing there?"

"Draco's father tried to steal it, or collect it, if you prefer, given its seeming unattended nature, but died in the attempt, the head of the client line felt it his duty to bring it home anyway and purify it of wards and curses, but I think he'd be relieved for its owner to come and claim it."

"That's a firm strike _against _Draco in my book," said Riddle, "though not insurmountable. Hmm, No doubt he'd willingly trade it for the wand if we had the wand in hand to bestow."

"I don't think it would come to that, if you went willing to pay a finders reward or a curse breaker's fee, I don't think you'd have to part with all of it."

"Hmm."

"Of course, Draco and Mr. Crabbe would much prefer to have Lord Malfoy back, not some loose gold."

"Of course," said Riddle, "why can't people make their own objects of power and leave other people's alone."

…

After several minutes contemplating a question that wouldn't go away, Riddle sat up, "Potter?"

"Yeah— Yes?"

"What's the real reason you're comfortable sleeping in here?"

"Luna told me to," said Potter.

"She doesn't seem all that reliable an advisor."

"She plans to marry me," said Potter.

"So do half the other girls in first year," said Riddle, "Why Luna."

"She sees visions of some sort," said Potter, "I've been meaning to check up that they're not daydreams but haven't … oh."

"Oh what?" said Riddle.

"Thirty to two, no sixty to two. So thirty to one," muttered Potter, "Oh."

"What?" Riddle hissed, "§-Light.-§" Causing the ceiling burst into a gentle blue-green phosphorescence. He turned to see what was wrong with Potter.

Potter clutched his wand and held it up pointing it at the ceiling, "I, Harry James Potter, claim and acknowledge Luna Lovegood as my seer, I expect to marry her … near or before September of 1997, as she has foretold."

"Oh…kay," said Riddle.

"Any who lay violent hand on her person or her mind or her magic can expect to face my vengeance."

Riddle blinked.

"As I say, so I swear, on my magic and my life," magic pulsed out of him sealing his oath, not the explosion of magic fleeing a suddenly forsworn caster, "so help me Magic," he whispered.

And the magic rushed back into him collecting in his wand, and apparently in his sinuses.

He breathed roughly for almost half a minute. As the magic reabsorbed into his lungs and down into his core, and backward, up the opesvenum in his wand arm.

"What does that last bit do?" said Riddle, "I've never heard it before, but it sounds similar to muggle religious oaths."

"Someone told me magical oaths could tear the soul or weaken and bind a portion of one's magic, I think it undoes that, but I'm not sure what the cost is. And I get the sense that it only works on oaths that Magic approves of."

"Meaning what?"

"So far, I've only guessed it means that you mean the oath in it's non-selfish form."

"Meaning what?"

"I claimed Luna, I could have claimed her with the intention of keeping her advice to myself, but I didn't, I claimed her with the intention of scaring anyone off from planning to hurt her."

"Meaning me," said Riddle, "given that I'm the only one who heard it."

"You can spread rumours quite as well as Matirni can," said Potter, then lay back, "Ugh, now I really do owe her father that letter."

"Hmm," said Riddle.

"Cousin," said Potter sounding completely defeated, "what do you know about pureblood betrothal contracts."

"As little as possible," said Riddle, "Ask Malfoy."

"I intend to," said Potter, "but I thought if I had the first layer of complications whirring in my head all night, I might sleep better… the rest of the week."

"Ah," smirked Riddle and lay back down.

After Potter's breathing had evened out again he lifted his wand to the ceiling, "§-Peace,-§"

And there was darkness again.

.

**Scar**

Tom woke a few hours later from a vivid dream involving a ceremony that would use a horcrux-like ritual to give him absolute control of a snake. It was a rather intriguing use of the horcrux ritual. So much for trying to sleep after _several _uncomfortable discussions the evening before.

He sat up and and contemplated a trip to the loo to cool his brain. Only to remember that the door was locked. He silently cast the unlocking charm but did not hear the telltale click or hiss of its release. Lord Potter might be stronger than he'd thought. He hissed the most similar parselmouth spell and it opened only for the reflected moonlight to show that Potter's bed was already empty.

He went to the loo door and knocked.

Potter made an awful noise and the door opened.

He was kneeling over the loo, apparently recovering from a massive vomit.

"Are you alright?" said Tom.

"Nightmare," said Harry and started conjuring a glass goblet and then water. After he'd rinsed his mouth he flushed and poured out the cup also. Only change his mind a moment later and conjure another glass-full to rinse and spit again.

"Can I get you anything?"

"A flat coke?" said Harry.

"Ew?" said Tom.

"Never mind," said Harry and stood up and cast several cleaning and scrubbing charms at his face and chest, before washing his hands at the sink in the normal way. "I suppose you're wanting a turn?"

"Just with the facilities, Yes," said Tom.

Harry nodded and lurched out of the room.

Tom closed the door did his business. When he came out Harry was standing by the door to the bedroom leaning against the wall still breathing shallowly.

Apparently unwilling to go into Tom's bedroom unaccompanied? Was that some form of politeness or fear of trespassing. Or was that reluctance to face the environment in which he had so recently been tortured by the dream. Or was it just too dark to see.

"Did you add your locking charm to the suite door?" said Tom, "Or are you wanting to leave?"

"I often walk to the common room and stare at the fire or into the lake after my worst dreams," said Harry, "you have a real window, but … I'm not sure if the staring or the walking there before and back after are the real treatment."

"Does it actually work, or does it just provide temporal distance from the bad experience?"

Harry shrugged, but turned toward the door, then took a step backwards. Almost revulsion then?

"Perhaps temporal _and _physical distance," said Harry, and deliberately looked away from the dark doorway, then walked over to the window. After several breaths he nodded, and without turning cast the locking charm over his shoulder at the suite door.

Tom watched for several more breaths before he said, "Do you want to talk about it? Experiences bad enough to cause flashbacks and nightmares are often said to get better with talking them out with a friend."

"First off," said Harry, "it wasn't that sort of nightmare, second off, if it were I don't know if I have any of that kind of friend."

"Most slytherins don't," said Tom, "but if they are smart, they generally make a few, or pay good money for a therapist that is willing to be memory wiped afterwards."

"Merlin," said Harry.

"I could never afford therapists like that until I'd already found an alternate method."

"Which is?"

"Being the confidant, whenever a friend or two had a bad experience that matched mine, knowing that I wasn't alone, and listening to them come up with an action plan, or realising that the event was not their fault but was mere statistics, generally calmed my sense of 'suffering alone' sufficiently. Perhaps there are other benefits to talk therapy but that is the one that I got as a listener."

"Ah,"

"So… if you _didn't_ have some experience awful enough to cause a flashback warning that you should talk about said experience, you merely had an dream that was in itself awful, do you want to talk about your dream? In hopes of short circuiting any future flashbacks."

Harry gave a shaky nod, but aloud he said, "we don't say 'short circuit' in Wizarding Britain."

"You and I are both half blood nobles raised as orphans and ordered by Lady Malfoy to claim to be purebloods, I suggest that in private we can say anything we like."

"'Nice customs curtsy to great kings' is it?" said Harry, "Alright, whatever." He turned and conjured a comfortable looking chair, twinned it, and sank into one of them.

Tom hovered his to face the window rather than at Harry and also relaxed.

Harry seemed to get the idea and scooted his chair around slightly without getting out of it.

"So I was in the woods, being carried around by this crazy punk and his assistant or tour guide or whatever he was. They were on safari looking for some kind of magical viper of some sort."

Tom froze and made sure his mask was complete. And raised his occlumency barriers to maximum.

It was the exact same dream that he'd had, the punk was Mr. Crouch Jr one of Voldemort's petty but dedicated paladins. Fighting for the cause as they saw it, rather than for Voldemort, they were challenging to manipulate but oh so worth it, at least if battle became necessary. Or difficult journeys into the wild.

Harry continued, "When they found an acceptable snake, the punk knocked out the guide and got out some magical supplies, I … the child I was in the dream … wrote out a huge rune diagram that seemed just a bit off in several places, and then we … I sacrificed our porter/guide/dude to … to force the snake to be my familiar or something."

Still matching his own dream in every reported detail. Harry almost certainly didn't have the background to understand and report on the ritual. But he didn't expect that.

"Hmm," said Riddle, "some form of necromancy … or blood magic?"

Harry shrugged, "I thought the only good reason to use blood magic was if you were a squib or were momentarily without your wand."

"I think that is an oversimplification, but it's probably accurate enough for choosing when to invest time learning a more nuanced opinion."

Harry snorted and stared out the window, "Necromancy then. What counts as necromancy anyway?"

"Horcruxes and Infiri are the classic examples," said Tom, "Infiri because they are … easy enough to explain and give the beginner some feedback. Most everything after that becomes …" Tom snorted, "anyway, Horcruxes are a classic example because everyone wants to live forever even if hardly anyone wants to pay the price to use _that _ritual."

"Hmm," said Harry, "can it do anything both useful and worth the price?"

"Depends on how you evaluate the price, if you're a Grindelwald type with a 'near infinite' supply of 'criminals' and 'recruits' to sacrifice, the calculations are very different than for the rest of us."

"Ah!" said Harry, "though if you became too dependant on such it might lead a Grindelwald type to outlaw petty things to keep the sacrifices coming in?"

"That's the kind of corruption I was referring to when I implied that the infinite supply wasn't and the criminals weren't."

"Oh, that was your sarcasm tone not your disgust tone, got it."

Tom blinked at that but let it slide.

"Anyway, those two examples are also examples because they represent the two schools of necromancy, infiri are the classic example of using remains of the dead. The horcrux ritual uses the death of the victim."

"I'm sensing that you have very different views about the two."

"I do," said Tom, "you can make an infiri from any animal. Most practitioners can only effectively use primates or the same species as their animagus form or the same species as their true familiar. People think it is because necromancy must be creepy to work, it's not, it's because most wizards don't really have the imagination to understand how to control a body without significant time to gain experience with that body. Hence the need to pick a body that they already have inside information about how to control, even if it is somewhat second hand."

"Yes, I got that part, what's you point."

"So that entire branch of necromancy isn't that different than potions that require body parts from any other animal, it's just that before it died, those remains had been from a being. Or recognised by society as such: humans, goblins, drakkin, veela, you get the idea, giants too probably."

"So splitting off that branch of potions, is about the same as splitting off a similar branch of culinary science and calling it cannibalism?"

"Exactly," said Tom, "It's not done because it's creepy and the widespread practice of it would have a side effect on the murder rate. But it isn't 'necromancy,' to my way of thinking though I don't have a better word to propose."

"I understand,"

"The other branch, I suppose could also be said to be a the portion of ritual magic that either _uses_ the death of the sacrifice, or uses a vital aspect of the sacrifice such that it will inevitably die of the loss. Which might include a portion of blood magic, but never mind that. It's just categories, the theory and arithmancy doesn't necessarily share anything in common between rituals, so the only skill that might share across rituals is having a strong stomach."

"I see."

Tom pointed his wand at the ceiling and hissed, "§-Light,-§" "Sorry, I probably should have done that before we started on that subject."

Harry nodded and looked at the window again. Not that anything could be seen in mere moonlight now that the ceiling was glowing.

"Harry, look at me."

Harry turned back, deliberately, perhaps… His scar wasn't _just _an angry red belying his still elevated heart rate.

"Your scar is bleeding."

Harry grimaced, "It does that sometimes."

Tom had a sudden inspiration, "since … umm whenever you have similar dreams?"

"Yes, actually."

Tom closed his eyes, what did he know, how did he know it, and what did he want to do about it?

He imagined the scene: "Come here little Harry, I'm the only wizard in Britain who can fix it. Come here and let Prefect Riddle kiss it better." Harry would freak out. So, no.

What would Harry expect? "Have you told Pomfrey?"

"She can't do anything except give me pain relief and dreamless sleep."

Tom nodded.

"Neither of which actually work that well in this case."

Tom nodded, "Does … " _hugging a rabbit to pieces help? _… "does a comfort animal help?" _Well not literally to 'pieces,' but __… ever since that one suffocated in his arms, he'd never again trusted his body to convert any emotion into an appropriate action. He didn't _suppress _any emotion, just the actions his body wanted to take based on them. And now he was in a different body, though an idealised version of his first. Only somehow Padma and Amelia had been on the committee doing the idealising. And he was sure he was now 6 contradictory versions of hansom, he was just happy he'd managed to get away without a bony crest on his forehead or heat-ray eyes or something._

"A … what is a comfort animal?"

"Do you have a familiar?"

"Hedwig."

"Species?"

"She's a hawk."

"No," said Tom, "at least … mammals are reputed to be most effective." Then he manufactured a put upon sigh.

"What?"

"Stopping the dreams would stop the bleeding," said Tom, "Removing the curse would stop the dreams, Stopping the bleeding might starve the curse."

"Not catch-22, but a repeating triangle? What do you propose?"

"Perhaps, You sleep with me every night until the dreams stop," said Tom.

Harry opened his mouth.

"Or until you can buy a kneazle or something."

"Hmm, and you're not trying to get into my pants?"

"No," said Tom, "You're not my type."

"Do you _have_ a type?"

"If my fantasies are any indication," said Tom, "Yes, three."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"To summarise because you don't want me to unpack it all: the category you're closest to but haven't yet reached is 'equals'," said Tom, "of which there are vanishingly few in this world. And so far they need me as little as I need them."

Harry blinked. He seemed bemused whether to be … insulted?

"When you've taken your NEWTs we can compare scores," said Tom, "Until then don't expect to come to my attention, _in that way_."

Harry nodded. "Yes, but—" then he nodded, "OK, forget the sexual aspects… Are you really the … I don't know… nurturing type you've come across several times this evening?"

"Yesterday evening and this morning?"

"Let us be precise," said Harry, "Yes."

"I was selected to be a prefect," said Tom, "I can be harsh enough to maintain order of the most wily and gentle enough to be trusted care for the members of _the_ most abused house."

Harry's eyes widened, "I hadn't calculated that… I'm not sure Professor Snape is as selective with his prefects."

"I'm not sure he's always had a good selection to chose from."

"Oh,"

"Come to bed," said Tom, "if nestling doesn't fix your nightmares, long enough for things to heal I'll … put in a word with Madam Pomfrey and whatnot so you can get more dreamless sleep and perhaps a more specific pain blocker."

"Umm alright," said Harry.

.

At first Harry was just as tentative touching him as Harriet had been after that first shock at the Yule ball. But whatever was odd about Harriet wasn't with Harry. Nor had it been the previous evening when Tom had shared the memory of his first impression of the first wizard other than himself.

After a few minutes Harry had found a position that he … didn't admit to discomfort. Tom fell back into old patterns of reading feelings of awkwardness from muscle tenseness until he had made himself comfortable and accepted Tom's wrist as a comfortable thing to grasp in place of his stuffed animal or whatever he normally had.

Harry seemed to have some instinctive understanding of the spooning posture, and a distrust of it.

That was fine Tom didn't expect any sane person to trust a new acquaintance enough to sleep with their back exposed first night. But he wanted a few seconds uninterrupted, unobserved, unintentioned, access to the scar.

Tom lay awake waiting for anything to change, especially sleep.

Finally Harry seemed to be as relaxed and unconscious as he was likely to get, and Tom leaned closer and placed his lips to the scar, focusing all his will and sympathy on regretting being played by Dumbledore, and on remorse that he'd ever willed or acted to cause pain or death to Harry or his parents. The pain was the same as touching Harriet, but the emotion behind it was a healthy sadness or grief, not the burning defensive rage that he'd experienced then.

Harry tensed under his ministrations and cried out feebly. And then the encysted magic gave way and he went limp. Tom on the other hand clenched his jaw to keep from screaming.

He wasn't sure how long it took. When he opened his teeth and eyes Harry's eyes were also open and he was staring.

"Are you alright?" said Tom.

"Did you bite my scar?"

Tom winked, "With my teeth or with my magic?"

"Whichever."

"Not with my teeth," said Tom.

"But it bled again anyway?" said Harry.

Tom nodded, "It's going … Just a second, I should have done this before." He conjured gauze and sopped up the blood and while he was doing so felt around for any additional magic or soul or life force that wanted to integrate into his own pattern rather than Harry's. There wasn't much left. Most of it had already escaped and rejoined him the moment the horcrux had been released.

Popped like a pustule and drained… but also eaten. Necromancy was a disgusting business. He wouldn't tell Harry what he'd done. Not telling him was the right choice.

"I don't feel right at all," said Harry.

"What are your symptoms?"

"Kind of light headed, only … maybe in a good way. Except it seems to be all of me that is light, not just mt head. And … Have you ever raced anyone to see how much you could drink?"

"Sure."

"Was it caffeinated?"

"Yes."

"Like that, except in my magic instead of in my alertness."

"Hmm."

"Except also like … after a day of backpacking when you take off your pack."

"Except the load was on your scar not your back?"

"It was all across my whole forehead."

Tom's next pass with the gauze he pretended to be wiping sweat from Harry's brow, not blood from his scar. There wasn't any more horcrux remnants to remove, but … there was some kind of enchantment still there. It wasn't _Harry's _intention, but it might have been his magic powering it. A parasitic rune array? What was it doing? Cursing something … protecting itself… protecting Harry… and staying hidden. Even now it was … trying to hide the scar. The scar was part of the inscription. Or … no it wasn't, it was … Harry's metamorph magic begging for help, the inscription could have hidden, was hiding, that rune. And Harry's magic was manifesting a scar anyway. Or … Harry was manifesting something and it was easier to manifest a fake scar that matched the underlying reality than to manifest something totally different.

If Voldemort had placed that inscription it would have been designed to protect the horcrux, not to protect Harry from it.

"Harry," whispered Tom.

"Yeah?"

"There was a curse…"

"It was a curse scar."

"It wasn't."

"What? What can you tell?"

"There's an inscription on your forehead."

"Aunt Petunia says she put it there, err finished putting it there, but that Mum started it before she died."

Tom nodded, "it was protecting you, there was another curse that was under your skin but above the protection that the inscription was giving you. Is still giving you."

"That … makes sense."

"I think I got it out, I think that the inscription is sucking up less of your magic to fight the curse." _I know the horcrux is sucking up less magic to fight the inscription._

"Oh, and that's why I'm feeling … way too good?"

"Yeah," said Tom, "That might be your new normal, or you might go back to normal after your core stops trying to compensate for how much magic the inscription was using up to protect you."

"Alright," said Harry.

"And after you adjust to that, I think your metamorph magic will adjust to not fighting the inscription and it will be able to hide your scar the way it already hides the other runes."

"Like Aunt Petunia and all her family?"

"What?"

"Rumour is a lot of the family wears the same inscription. But … I can only differentiate the magic on those who don't have a magical core."

Tom nodded, "You might get more adept if you … by the time you get your runes OWL."

Harry nodded.

Tom vanished the last piece of gauze, "You've stopped bleeding, both blood and magic. I don't have any other treatments planned tonight."

"I notice that you didn't say that last time you were trying to convince me to sleep."

"It would have too direct a lie last time," said Tom, "Now it is the truth."

"And you didn't tell me the truth last time?"

"I needed you unconscious and the curse to be unaware of my intentions."

"The deception was aimed at the curse, not at me?"

"Yes."

"Something necromatic then?"

He really had given Harry too much information.

"Yes."

"And you ate it?"

"Yes, sort of."

"Is it bad for you? Or going to be?"

Tom sighed. "Almost certainly not."

"Good, I think," said Harry, "Do I want to know anything more?"

"No," said Tom, "In fact, if anyone other than Mrs. Malfoy asks, you … got it done by a specialist over the hols. I had nothing to do with it."

"Dear me," said Harry.

"Unless it does hurt me badly enough that I'm unconscious, in front of Pomfrey and she has on the same sort of frown she gives you about your scar."

"You think she has a frown specially for necromancy?"

"I'd be surprised if she does not," said Riddle, "I'm not sure which way she'd count the inscription on your forehead. But I suspect the curse wouldn't be to her liking, even if it couldn't do much to you directly because of your mother and aunt's shielding."

"Alright," said Harry, "So Pomfrey is permitted to know you healed it, if your safety seems to depend on it, and Mrs. Malfoy is permitted to know."

"If she is questioning very closely about our interaction or about either of our honours and you believe that revealing I cured or removed or absorbed a necromantic curse from your scar would improve the tenor of the conversation or her impression of the appropriateness of our … relationship."

"Makes sense," said Harry, "I can't imagine she'd ask about that directly instead of sending Snape to do her investigating."

"Good point," said Tom, "I'm not … going to try to dictate between you and your family type connections, but I don't want it all over school, or any other public forum. That I knew enough necromancy to fix you. Nor do you want it aired about that you had that sort of problem to start with."

A long silence, "Alright."

"_Now_ I'm going to sleep," said Tom.

"Yeah," said Harry and put his head down again.

…

In the morning Harry mentioned that wearing Harriet's face over the scar didn't 'hurt' anymore. (hurt 'like a dislocated finger or toe' not like 'actual' pain. Tom didn't want to know what sort of scrapes he liked to get into to feel that way about sprained joints). He(she?) said 'thanks' again and left for breakfast, or a shower, or whatever was next on 'Harriet's' agenda.

Tom smirked to himself all through breakfast. So Voldemort _had _gotten around to making traditional horcruxes, not just abandoned him in the diadem. And last night he'd used a related technique to permanently gain an imperious type control of a snake who's venom he'd need to sustain the homunculus he currently inhabited. So the field was still being expanded, and Voldemort was still active in the research.

And here was Tom, cleaning up behind the scenes. It amused his sense of fairness. Before he'd been abandoned he'd always been amused to find out how much low hanging fruit seemed to be completely unresearched. Power waiting to be grasped. Now here he sat forty some years later gaining knowledge and power from that research, and gaining again whenever he got around to cleaning up the lab leftovers before Voldemort noticed the clutter he was leaving behind.

Also it gave him the same strange familial feeling he got when he inveigled himself into a teacher's pet type position.

Of course, It _wouldn't do_ to admit or even to imply that that Voldemort took apprentices, nor that he had anything like that sort of relationship with the dark lord.

But it didn't change the fact that Tom _felt _that way about gleaning, not just knowledge, but also magic and memories accidentally left behind by his previous future self.

And for some reason, it was ongoing, in the form of dreams.

What he still couldn't figure was why old Tom had tried to make Harry into a horcrux or horcrux type object.

More history to research, as he had time.

**Aftermath**

"Are you Hermione Granger, first of her line, and top second year pupil in Gryffindor?"

Hermione looked up from her homework, a tall, amazingly handsome slytherin was towering over her and her books and her homework. "Maybe, what do you need her for?" said Hermione. Suppressing annoyance that the Hufflepuff she was coaching had decided to be distracted by this interruption (and squeaking about it) rather than leaving well enough alone and redeeming the time by reading ahead, it was _her own _homework after all.

"I expected you to be more gryffindor," said the older pupil, "have you heard of the Elder Wand?"

"The first deathly hallow, which according to legend was given to Antioch Peverell by Death himself (or herself), and stolen from him while he slept?"

"I see you have," said the boy, "do you want it?"

"And get killed in my sleep?" said Hermione, "Not my idea of a good life story."

"You don't have to brag that you have it," said the boy, "I only asked if you want it."

"Why me?"

"Several people think it belongs to you," said the boy, "Try asking Dumbledore for it next time you see him, see if he gives it to you."

"Umm, oh…kay?" said Hermione. And if people already thought she had it, she might live _longer _if she actually _did_ have it.

"You're welcome," said the boy and turned and walked away.

"Who was that?" muttered Hermione.

"I don't know," said the hufflepuff third year Hermione was helping, "but if he asked me to go to Hogsmead with him I'd say yes."

"That is hardly the point," said Hermione, and began to harbour more suspicions exactly _why _this girl was having trouble keeping up with classes.

She looked down at her parchment and realised that her name was at the top of the assignment she was working on.

_Oh well, whatever._

**{End Chapter 15}**

A/N Sorry, for the long time between updates, there were reasons, some of which were health related, my health and my computer's health. But mostly it was because internal struggles about whether each chapter had gotten edited enough. Luna and Neville are dear friends to many fans, myself included, the struggles that each of them face at home are as serious as much of what Cannon!Harry faced. Ergo, to compassionately portray a character shaped by those struggles is also serious. Creating a relationship of any kind between Luna and Harry/Harriet is an order of magnitude more serious. Conversely with the powers I've given Luna, I'm having trouble imagining they would meet in a less startling way. I'm having similar struggles editing and reediting around Neville's adventures in year 3.

Then there's this chapter, it was supposed to be totally ready and not at all in need of editing, but … then I started trying to untangle the too-many-slytherins and too-many-seers problems in year four and I realised that … other things had happened this chapter and added them. Then I had to attempt to compress 3 months worth of editing passes into a single week… you can see the results.

Also, thanks for the PMs of minor spelling and grammar to repairs. If you see chapter rewrite notifications, most of those are minor edits I haven't actually added whole scenes or made any large plot changes.

.

And _thanks _for your support.

~Bregalad


	39. 2-16: End of year

**{Disclaimer}**

_If you recognise it from somewhere else, then I almost certainly don't own it. _

_If you wish to help beta this or future works me PLEASE contact me. If you find a spelling or grammar error or even a US idiom that you can supply the UK counterpart, feel free to tell me about it. I did my best to use UK spelling and phrasing over US, but assume there are lapses, if you have further suggestions I'm open to consider them._

_Thanks for the reviews and PMs, I am making changes. I am re-releasing this in smaller sections, Thanks for the feedback. I apologise for the ellipses it seems the most effective way to keep my line breaks where they belong. _

_Parceltongue finally makes an appearance in chapter 14 &amp; 15, so here's your warning that I'm punctuating it __§-like this.-§_

…

_This is an story about who Harry might be, in an AU that diverges before Lily and Snape go to Hogwarts. The divergence starts when Petunia is given a book called 'The Thirteen Clocks' by James Thurber. She finds the formula used by its protagonists, "If X must be done, and cannot be done by method Y, then it must be attempted by a method not-Y," to be infinitely more useful than "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," and of course she lives too early to have heard the early 21 century buzzword version of the adage, "Fail better."_

_Because of this strategy she manages to gain Snape's respect and help, though not the friendship for which she had originally been jealous. With access to his research from within the wizarding world and his intermittent aid now and then, she managed to gain entrance to a different magical community. A community made up of contented squibs rather than jealous ones._

…

_This is Harry's second year._

…

_Enjoy,_

_H. Bregalad_

**Daily Prophet**

Dumbledore turned the page, and sipped his tea, pleasantly lemony tea. Snape would be here soon and report exactly what was going on at Hogwarts with the Lady Malfoy running things. She couldn't do much damage he didn't think as long as she didn't have a chance to set the curriculum for next year or replace any professors or... but almost all of those things weren't scheduled for another several months.

Dumbledore turned another page, and his eyes lit up. _Ah, here's the rest of the old families section._ Though he still hadn't figured out why they didn't just call it the gossip section and save that much ink.

"The Greengrasses have won the bid for the right to sponsored a pair of orphan twins, their accidental magic was detected in November and investigators added them to the list of candidates before the beginning of Advent. There are conflicting reports regarding which of the Greengrass lines will claim the final honour of bringing them into the wizarding world. Guyphinious Greengrass was not available for comment. Public documents indicate that preliminary work is in progress for a full adoption of the boys, hopefully before their sixth birthday in mid April."

.

"The young Lord Potter, who startled the world late last month with his long winded and opinionated statements at his emancipation hearing, has surprised us again by signing a betrothal contract with her father, Mr. Xenofilious Lovegood, for the hand of his only daughter, Miss Luna Lovegood, who is attending Hogwarts at this time, now soon to be completing her first year.

"Meanwhile Lord Potter is schooling abroad, though reports indicate he did attend the Malfoy's Yule Ball with his cousin and childhood confidant Harriet Matirni."

_That _was _a juicy piece of gossip_, Dumbledore spread out the newspaper further.

"Reports indicate that Miss Lovegood, a first year Ravenclaw, is known to associate with a wide range of second year pupils: the gryffindors: (heir) Neville Longebottom and Miss Patil Parvati (a girl he favours), and her twin Miss Patil Padma, (one of Luna's fellow Ravenclaws), also Padma's possible intended: (heir) Draco Malfoy, and Miss Harriet Matirni, first of her line."

"Lord Potter and Miss Lovegood have both credited Miss Patil Padma and Miss Matirni with the match. Both girls deny any connection to the events in question. But it does seem unlikely that Miss Lovegood could have come to Lord Potter's attention without Miss Matirni's intervention.

"It is now known that one of Lord Potter's first acts after gaining his emancipation was to formalise his sponsorship of his cousin Harriet Matirni, not as a client line but as a cadet branch, she has until her seventeenth birthday to request full line status, it has been expected that he would exert his right as her sponsor to claim her magical guardianship, but so far he has neglected that step, and it remains with the current Headmistress of Hogwarts, Narcissa Malfoy.

"Lord Potter is widely expected to apply for his Wizengamot seat either later this month, or in June, though it is unclear how he will cast his vote while maintaining his school attendance."

"Rumour puts the tentative wedding date in August 1997, after Lord Potter attains his majority but half a year _before _Miss Lovegood attains her majority. Xenofilious Lovegood has not been available to comment."

_._

_(For a full and up to date sponsorship tree of the House of Black, turn to page 12)_

_(For an discussion of the rights of emancipated minors regarding entering into marriage contracts see Page 14)_

.

"Several incidents in south Wiltshire have been pieced together by investigators, and may indicate a lone werewolf or small pack on the loose. Please take proper precautions in the upcoming full moon. Common measures include—" _Oh, that horizontal line had been the end of the old families section._

.

Dumbledore looked up as a man in short dirty blond hair and dark blue robes slid into the booth across from him.

"I _beg_ your pardon," said Dumbledore.

"You no doubt need it," said the man with a characteristic sneer.

"I'm waiting for someone," said Dumbledore.

"I'm waiting for your bird to order me away."

"Is that so," said Dumbledore, "what's the news?"

"Horcruxes," said Severus, "multiple horcruxes, so far, in order, his wraith possessing Quirrell which Matirni dispatched by accident when he grabbed her, his school diary which Matirni dispatched by accident when _she _grabbed _it_, the Gaunt family ring, which dispatched both Malfoy and then Goyle when _they _tried to grab it, with dragon-hide gloves on, no less. Crabbe stopped that foolishness with Fiendfyre, leaving nothing but the resurrection stone, now in one of the Malfoy vaults, next Ravenclaw's diadem which isn't as clearly a horcrux, but seems to have functioned in a similar manner, both soul fragments that were in it have been resurrected, which seems to be the work of Patil twins, the soul fragments themselves, and Salizar's basilisk who is rumoured to be 'friendly' and named 'Amelia'.

"My god," said Dumbledore, "you say soul fragments? Plural?"

"Yes, one is a young woman who goes by Helena Ravenclaw."

"The Gray Lady," said Dumbledore absently.

Severus frowned for a second, then continued: "She asked for fortnight to decide if she really wished to attend school, during which she is rumoured to have read through the library's entire history section, and most of the charms section, and found clerical work in hogsmead. Before telling Narcissa that she wasn't interested in enrolling as a student. I believe she tried to negotiate ongoing library access but was only allowed the public's normal level of access, summer months only.

"And finally a fifth year pupil who goes by the name 'Tom Marvollo Riddle, the fourth.'"

"The fourth?"

"I presume that's a bit of misdirection introduced by Headmistress Malfoy, but I can't seem to confirm it without access to the school wards. I was distracted and forgot to confirm it when he was off site at the Yule Ball."

"Oh," said Dumbledore, "No doubt you'll get another chance."

"No doubt," said Severus, "I suppose you want the other news as well."

"Yes."

"Narcissa has asked the Board of Governors to separate the teacher workload between fourth and fifth years or between fifth and sixth, possibly depending on whether the subject is core or elective, which is to say 7 years or 5 years long."

"That's all well and good, but where are we going to find the extra teachers?" said Dumbledore.

"You may want to wait until she finishes stepping on that rake before you swoop in to pick up the pieces," said Severus, "She also petitioned for an additional rule that no member of the Hogwarts staff be assigned three job descriptions, which means I will have to step down as head of house or as 'school brewer' which is now a part time position that reports to and is paid from the hospital wing budget, but is nominally a member of the potions department, either a professor or a pupil studying for their potions NEWT."

"I suppose I could approve of that change," said Dumbledore.

"Similarly Minerva will have to step down as deputy headmistress or as head of house."

"She's changing the rules so that she is _required _to stack her deck."

Severus nodded, "the rule is so written that Narcissa herself must relinquish her seat on the Wizengamot or the Board of Governors."

"I didn't expect that," said Dumbledore sitting back, "but I presume it would also block me from resuming my position unless I resign from the Wizingmot or the ICW?"

Severus nodded, "Narcissa has already contracted her seat to Smith."

"Oh, my," said Dumbledore, "that is a big step." And he shivered, "I'm surprised she didn't offer it to Augusta."

"I'm sure that was also contemplated," said Severus.

"So are you saying these resolutions passed?"

"Yes," said Snape, "they've all passed, but there is a two year time limit for how long it can take to hire new professors to fill the outstanding posts."

"Is there any _good _news?"

"With the news all over school and the Department of Mysteries, about the Chamber of Secrets and Amelia the basilisk, Narcissa and/or Rookwood have gotten Hagrid a retrial and he's passed most of his OWLs."

"Yes, but…" Dumbldore wrung his hands as another layer of his web unravelled before his eyes.

"He's set to take his Care of Magical Creatures NEWT next month, Narcissa told him that if he passes with an O or E, the Junior Professorship for Care of Magical Creatures is his."

Dumbledore passed his hand in front of his eyes. "Alright, what else?"

"She's offered to help him get a license for his dragon if he exterminates the acromantula colony."

"Better her than me," said Dumbledore.

"Otherwise she'll 'be forced to contact the ministry for assistance removing both problems'."

"That sounds like her," said Dumbledore, "not that I like acromantulas, but does she know that Hagrid's can talk?"

Severus blinked, "_I_ didn't know that Hagrid's acromantulas talk, I didn't know that was possible."

Dumbledore shrugged, "I didn't either, until I was forced to talk to them once."

"Does that qualify them as beasts of near human intelligence?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't checked the other requirements, and I'd probably check the centaur's opinion."

Severus snorted, "as if _that_ would end well."

"What else?" said Dumbledore.

"Well," said Severus, "Narcissa ordered me to introduce Tom Riddle to Draco and Harriet, and get them discussing politics, they've turned it into a debate club and are starting to invite other members."

Dumbledore turned the newspaper and pushed it across, "does this list of pupils look familiar?"

Severus studied it for several seconds before pushing it away and looking up, "Longbottom and Patil Parvati don't associate with the other four all that much, and Luna is a new addition since Christmas, I had _no _idea this was in the works."

Dumbledore nodded.

Severus rubbed his chin, "though it explains why Lovegood and Patil Padma have suddenly joined the debate club, if they are auditioning for alliance with two future Wizengamot Lords."

"Hmm," said Dumbledore, "what else it there to worry about."

Severus waited for him to finish sighing then reached out and put both hands flat on the table, "One more thing, and it perhaps is the biggest yet."

Dumbledore met his eyes and waited.

"At the Yule ball, Matirni and Riddle danced, or a simulacrum of it, without touching, I don't mean they wore gloves or only touched each other's clothes, I mean they maintained about nine inches air gap between them."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, but I interpret it to mean, Matirni's touch would dispatch him like it did the diary and Quirrell."

"But how, and … did she know why, and if so, why avoid touching him?"

"I … don't know, another interpretation is that whatever it is between them caused _both _of them pain, and Riddle in his current form is equally strong enough to withstand a short contact as Matirni is, and so they learned not to touch."

Dumbledore nodded, "It wouldn't take long to learn better if it was painful enough."

"That was Yule, _yesterday _I saw Riddle, Matirni, and Lovegood in one of the seventh floor classrooms enjoying a bit of the southern sun, and lounging against each other, reading a bestiary as if it were their last thing before a lazy summer nap."

"All three of them, touching?"

"Yes," said Severus, "Riddle in the middle, Matirni and Luna sprawled against him as if he were … their favourite older brother or something, And all of them about eight years younger."

"So whatever blocked them from touching, is gone?"

Severus nodded, "It appears that way."

"Which means if there are more Horcruxes she might not destroy them 'accidentally' before she knows she's found them."

"Probably."

"Which is why we'll need Potter instead of Matirni to finish him off?"

"Perhaps."

"Another interpretation?"

"If she converts Riddle, and he goes out and destroys the rest, will you permit him the second chance that you always argued for his followers?"

Dumbledore sighed, "I didn't argue that for _all _his followers, but as long as we maintain a reputation for accepting surrenders, there is always a chance we shan't have to fight or imprison each and every one of them."

"Hmm, there are several nuances there that I've never understood. You mourn your enemies falling in battle, which is terrible for the moral of your friends when you do it publicly."

Dumbledore grimaced, "And for that I apologise, it is a strategy I thought I had invented, but lately I've learned that the muggles have studied it thoroughly and even tried to codify it in their international law. It is not a law enforcement tactic, nor a battle tactic but a strategy of war. It truly becomes a form of justice only in war between nations that both use conscripts. In the last war it was not necessarily appropriate, in that we did not have reason to expect such extensive use of the imperious curse until afterwards. All our information pointed to the dark mark only being awarded those who'd accomplished something horrifically criminal, for the soul purpose of obtaining the dark lord's trust."

Snape frowned, "If you're using muggle wars as a point of reference, I'm not sure that the normal meanings of 'horror' and 'criminal' apply at all."

Dumbledore winced again, then shrugged, "This has gotten rather far afield. To go back to your original question, if society in general allows Tom to exist as a non-violent member, I suppose I could to as well, but that remains to be seen."

Snape looked troubled.

"Yes?"

"Just because one of them doesn't survive doesn't mean… What I'm trying to say is, I might allow Tom to live where I wouldn't allow his older self to, but I wouldn't sacrifice either Potter's life or Matirni's happiness to allow that."

"I see what you mean," agreed Dumbledore, "Do you have a suggestion?"

"If he does convert and stay converted, Leave it up to Potter," said Severus, "If Potter already is the one who must deal the final blow, he is also the one who will have to live with the implications afterwards."

"To come to that realisation shows both wisdom and mercy."

"Perhaps," said Severus.

**Wizingamot**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (among other things), moved to the podium, and said his normal spiel.

As soon as he finished, Augusta Longbottom moved that it be established that there was a quorum, it was a normal sort of request for the start of the January session, everyone would rather stay at home in warm socks by a comfy fire. If those who honoured their duty far enough to be present, couldn't accomplish anything meaningful, it made sense to send them home again, and sooner rather than later.

Someone seconded, so Albus nodded to the bailiff and she started calling roll.

Once that was accomplished, Albus called for new business so that they could resume old, Narcissa Malfoy stood in her spot among the dark-aligned 'elected' seats, so he acknowledged her, already knowing where this was going.

"I motion we open a membership session and call for new members."

"Does anyone second?" said Dumbledore.

Up in the hereditary section of the neutral families, Augusta Longbottom raised her cane. She liked annoying everyone by raising it instead of her hand. Dumbledore suspected she was loosing flexibility in her shoulder and couldn't be bothered to find the time to get it healed. No one was quite sure why she needed the cane either, it might only be an affectation, or it might be needed, or it might be a place to carry an extra wand or blade. The late Lord Malfoy's cane could almost certainly do both. Though perhaps he had two identical canes one that hid a blade and one that hid a wand.

"Longbottom seconds," called out the Bailiff.

"All in favour?"

Many hands went up

"All opposed?"

A few hecklers from the observation section waved.

"Motion passes, all new members please come to the front and present yourselves in an orderly fashion."

A boy proud of bearing and impeccably dressed marched down the aisle between dark and neutral, when he reached the front he glanced around as if to check who else was in line ahead of him. No one was of course.

He moved to the witness's podium and waited to be acknowledged.

"Please state your name, and petition," said Dumbledore.

The boy bowed, "chief warlock," then to the gathered Wizengamot, "Lords and Ladies," and turned stood to the podium, "My name is Harry James Potter, and I am here to claim my family's seat among you, as is my right as Lord and Heir of the House of Potter."

That was the formula for a pureblood, not for a half blood, but … perhaps Narcissa knew what she was doing. So … point it out, or play along or let someone else step in that dragon patty.

"Are you ready to take the oath?"

"I am."

"Members of the Wizengamot of Great Britain, do you acknowledge his right?"

Several objections were raised, his age, (he presented his writ of emancipation), his blood status, (he presented his writ of emancipation, damn him, that's how he was managing it. Narcissa could emancipate all her muggleborns on the day before their seventeenth and they'd be purebloods. _That _loophole was sure to be closed soon. Not that their pureblood status would last more than a generation without the money to back it up with a sponsorship and what not.

But wait, was there paperwork showing him as a student of Hogwarts at the time of his emancipation? If there was, it was MacGonagall's fault, (and probably Dumbledore's fault for working her too hard.) Damn, never mind.

A few asked him trick questions about wizarding culture, things that only someone who'd studied pureblood propaganda thoroughly would know, he answered chapter and paragraph from _Family First_, and general intent from, _In Magic's Debt_, one person asked something that Dumbledore didn't even understand, and the boy answered chapter and verse from _Pureblood Way_, and then refuted with similar passages from _In Magic's Debt _and a passage of _scripture _and chapter and section from the _Statute of Secrecy_.

How did they make him into a pureblood lawyer before he reached twelve and a half.

And then someone asked him something personal about whether he 'felt himself to be worthy.'

Dumbledore stood forward intervene, but before he could—

Lord Potter boldly proclaimed, "I am."

"Prove it," was the immediate reply.

"This is hardly—" started Dumbledore.

"I already said that I am willing to take the oath," said the boy, "if that is not sufficient to ensure my worth, I recommend we append the oath."

An interested mutter ran through the assembly.

When it died down Dumbledore did stand forward, "Any more questions?"

A little more muttering but nothing intoned to be serious.

"All in favour of acknowledging the right of Lord Harry James Potter to sit among us?"

About two thirds of the dark and neutral wizards and witches raised their hands. About a third of the light.

The Baliff summarised that as a 'yes,' and Dumbledore administered the oath.

The boy took it with no hint of trepidation but with a palpable and becoming solemnity.

"Welcome Lord Potter, find your seat."

He climbed up the stairs between the light and neutral sections and turned into the neutral section, but instead of walking until he was beside someone else he sat in the first chair, as if to proclaim himself lighter than neutral but darker than the others in the light section.

He also was on the row that was generally left empty between hereditary seats and elected seats.

He was either lost, or being intentionally cheeky, or being intentionally … something else.

And Narcissa surely coached him better than this … and therefore he was intentionally being 'something else.'

.

And they were out of new members. It took several perfunctory motions to end the membership session and resume a normal session.

"Any other new business?" said Dumbledore.

Potter stood up. It wasn't traditional for new members to introduce new business until their seventh or thirteenth month.

Dumbledore looked at Narcissa in case she was willing to get him sat back down.

She didn't seem anything but her serene self.

Dumbledore called on Potter.

"I move," said Potter, "that we quickly rectify a dangerous breech of justice that has been permitted to remain far too long. One of our members has been imprisoned without a trial. I hereby move that Lord Black be removed from Azkaban and placed in recuperative confinement for three months where he is to be permitted to consult with his solicitor and await a full trial at that time, a trial which he should have received before ever being transported to Azkaban."

More interested and perhaps even angry muttering.

Dumbledore waited for it to begin to die down then banged his gavel and asked if any would motion to open the floor for discussion. Several people did, then the questions started, Potter referred them to the records sections, commented on the amazing ability for paperwork to get lost between administrations, and gave his detailed analysis of what was wrong with the evidence on file, (Petigrew's finger was found, but all the muggles were found as entire corpses, explosions leave corpses or at least limbs, bones, and entrails, unless they are hot enough to vaporise flesh and bone, in which case Lord Black would not have survived unharmed, and the muggles' corpses and nearby buildings would have also shown evidence of that sort of thermal power.) It was Potter's belief that Petigrew used some sort of blood magic to set off a beacon charm that made it easier for associates elsewhere to target him for summoning. He figured this was the next step in the arms race between travellings methods, such as apparition and portkeys, and transportation blocking charms and wards.

Dumbledore knew enough about apparition and portkeys to understand that they didn't form a time line indicating the need for a new form of transportation, however… if one made a time line of the ability to block apparition and portkeys, it might be about time, it was an interesting theory.

But why hadn't Petigrew shown up since then?

The longer he listened to Potter's arguments the more certain he became that something didn't add up, and that a trial might be the fastest way to get to the bottom of it.

When the questioning began to slow down, and other Wizengamot members began to support and expand upon Potter's views, he asked if there was a motion to pass Potter's motion.

There was, and plenty of support.

Dumbledore told the Bailiff to make sure Amelia Bones knew what was expected of her.

.

Then _finally _it was time get on with it and resume old business.

…

By the end of the session two more resolutions were finally passed. And a third was sent back to committee. Maybe by April and pretty weather they'd be back to the short schedule.

**A surprise connection**

"— in the southern part of what is present day Slovenia," finished Binns.

Harriet dropped her book and sat up "Wait what?" she said.

Professor Binns continued droning.

After Hermione's performance the year before a few pupils had been a bit more daring about trying to get him to go into details that were interesting to them. Harriet decided that it was her turn, "Professor Binns!" she stood up and waived her hands over her head, a proven technique for cases like this, "Could you back up a little and explain the connection to Slovenia.

He huffed, but complied.

"Ulrich the Titan was born the heir John Henry IV of Gorizia, but was spirited away from his cradle by his nurse and a friendly monk who didn't wish to see him executed for witchcraft, his parents went to the grave believing themselves to be childless. He was fostered by a squib 'Maultasch' or Margret until he was 10, though in later life he claimed to have received significant tutoring on the sly by Bernard the Blue, a sorcerer of suspicious politics who may have hoped to groom him to take over his father's lands and titles. When he was fifteen Ulrich chose instead to journey abroad as a mercenary. He was reputed to have not one but 12 animagus forms, which is impossible. However there is no reason to doubt that whatever his form was, it was very large and very dangerous, perhaps a dragon. He probably was an early practitioner of disillusionment, a new charm at the time, but the practice of it may explain why it was said that another of his forms was the demiguise. It is also known that his managed his first transformation at a very young age, perhaps as young as six, which is further proof that he was a very powerful wizard indeed. There were speculations at the time that he received a large amount of his magic from dark rituals performed by himself or were performed on him at a young age by his 'family,' by which the uneducated rumour mongers almost certainly mean Bernard the Blue. At this late date it seems most plausible that these are malicious rumours started and spread by his enemies. What is known for sure is that in western Europe he was known by the appellation 'the goblin slayer,' which led to the French ministry at the time hiring him to do just that. From the documents we know he definitely arrived in Paris, and collected the first instalment, and after several months of recruiting and arming and training these recruits, the lot of them marched north, and disappeared without a trace, causing a deep prejudice against eastern Europeans by many in the French ministry's war effort at the time, to say nothing of adding to the already deleterious feelings between the French ministry and the Goblin Nations of the time."

You could hear a pin drop.

"Any further questions about Ulrich the ninth, or Ulrich the Titan?"

"Why isn't it possible to have multiple animagus forms?" said someone.

"That is a question for your transfiguration teacher," said Binns.

"Thank you, Professor Binns," said Draco, always the show off at sucking up, in his own proud way.

"Yes, Thank you," said Harriet, since it was she who had interrupted the lesson, not Draco.

.

"What was that about?" whispered Draco as soon as Binns had resumed his normal oblivious drone.

"I don't know," said Harriet, "Dad's family is from southern and eastern Slovenia, though I don't know where they were living all the way back to the fifteenth century."

"Which … Would it matter to you even if they had?"

"It wouldn't matter to _Harry_," said Harriet after a moment's contemplation, "but it would matter to me."

Draco looked crafty and impressed, "Fair enough, what about the animagus thing?"

Harriet shrugged, "I'm a metamorphmagus, I don't think I _can_ become an animagus."

"Oh, right," said Draco, "Never mind."

"Though I wondered, Is it really possible to have a dragon for a animagus form?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"The more general form of my question is, how often do animagi have a magical creature for their animal form?"

"Oh," said Draco, "It's not that rare, Grimms and Kneezles aren't that rare, I think I've only heard of three dragons though and one was definitely fictional."

"Ok," said Harriet.

"What is much more common is for Drakkin to have a human for an animagus form."

"Why's that?"

"There are two competing theories, one is about having equal and smaller sizes is easier, the other theory is that the more times you've met another animal like your form, the easier it will be for you to recognise yours from within yourself. So if you're a kneezle and you've only met cats or the reverse, you might have more trouble than if you've met both. And having met both would make it easier to recognise your form if you were meant to be a lion or whatever."

He paused his lecture several times to accommodate Binns coming to the end of his drone and finally sending them all out.

"So," said Harriet when they were in the hall and safely left behind by most of their class, "just because I've never met a drakkin, if that were my form, I'd never know it?"

"Right. Whereas most drakkin meet human ambassadors long before they come of age at eighty-five."

"So going to the zoo a lot might help people discover their form?"

"Plausible, though the muggle zoos I've seen in books might not be the best sort of environment to see animals acting natural enough to be helpful, Seeing them in the wild and interacting with others of their species, and perhaps hunting or eating or nesting or whatever, might be much more helpful."

"Hmm," said Padma, "so working with them in a circus might be even better than just watching them pace or bask in a zoo, except for the difference in animal selection."

"Yes," said Draco, "Exactly."

"Hmm," said Padma and walked away. Draco followed her, "You ought to know," Padma said as they walked, "muggles build their zoos much bigger now, probably a lot more like what it sounds like you're recommending."

Tracy stepped from the shadows and gave Harriet a stylised thumbs up, before slipping away in another direction.

_What?_ Harriet still hadn't found any indication in her protocol books what that difference in style might indicate.

_Whatever._

**Debate club**

Tom Riddle looked over his assembled allies, this was going so much better than last time. He banged his Gavel, "I hereby call to order the last meeting of the 92-93 school year, of the modern politics debate club, any new business?"

Abbot raised her hand.

"The chair recognises Miss Abbot."

"Why is this the last meeting?"

"We decided last week that we would not meet next week because of studying and the week after because of final exams. Or the week after because we'd all be outside enjoying the weather, or so we hope. And packing regardless."

"Right," said Abbot, "Sorry."

"Any new business?" said Riddle.

No more motion.

"Alright," said Riddle, "And there is no old business, we do have leftover debate topics, and I see most of you have brought in new debate topics. The chair recognises Miss Bones as moderator this week. Come take the gavel and the topic box."

"Thank you," said Bones and made her way to the front.

Riddle slid over several yards where he could continue to keep an eye on his dict-a-quill, and be on hand to provide Bones with backup if it turned out she needed it. She hadn't last time, but she had the time before. Which had been her first time, so it didn't reflect too badly.

Bones stuck her hand in the topic box and pulled out a slip of parchment, "First topic, 'It would relieve a certain amount of tension and perhaps increase good will, if the Goblin liaison office were move to the Department of International Cooperation,' hmm," Bones looked up, "I have also thought it's current position in the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures was at least a bit insulting, perhaps insulting enough to be dishonourable in some measure; so this already sounds well reasoned to me. But I'm willing to be convinced otherwise," she looked down at the parchment, "Thanks, Neville, do you wish to add any further explanatory comments before we open the floor?"

"I'm not sure what other explanations might be necessary or I would have included them," said Longbottom, "perhaps if you could give everyone a turn first, then I can clarify my position if need be."

.

Riddle stretched and accidentally kicked the locked trunk that sat under the table, slowly filling with of the minutes of the debate club. Yes, This club was a gold mine of good ideas, and they were all learning how committee debating worked, and taking turns learning how to moderate the discussions.

About half of them were heirs to hereditary Wizengamot seats, and the rest would be eminently well prepared to those duties if they managed to get elected. And everyone would already know and be used to the views of the others. And they all looked to _him _as their organiser. And Lady Malfoy had made him a pureblood.

And by the time he left office, he intend that blood status wouldn't matter anymore. What would matter is whether you could get elected and hold your own against all of these, who would almost certainly be competent by the time they graduated.

…

**{End Chapter 16}**

For several of the species of magical beings, mentioned I am indebted to several other authors, my drakkins are based loosely off the Drayches in WizardGirl's Ar Sciatháin Sciobtha, among others.

My vampires are somewhere between the tormented super minds of Alicorn's Luminocity, and the shepherds of humanity Out of the Dark by David Weber.

For Centaurs I can work from cannon, though I will probably stray where it pleases me, if I notice a prevailing trend I will give credit where it is due. Goblins I can work from cannon, I like Tigerman's portrayal of their ethics of ownership in Runemaster. Though I don't intend to follow his portrayal of their talents very closely, this isn't that sort of story.

.

So people, if you state a problem and someone proposes a solution, before you jump on them for not listening with a properly emotional attunement to your problem, consider whether their proposed solution requires sacrifice on their part and if they are serious about making that sacrifice. Because if they are, they have just made a statement about how high up you stand in their priorities. Just sharing advice implies *concern*, (even if it is stupid advice because they don't have access information you haven't seen fit to share, or because they've been listening so hard to the emotions of the situation that they can't see all of the details anymore), If they've proposed a sacrifice on their part, this implies *love* or whatever word is appropriate for prioritising that amount of your happiness or status(responsibilities) over the amount of happiness or status(responsibilities) they are offering to forgo. If you say (or imply) 'don't give me advice, I just want to hear that you care' you are also guilty of not listening well because they just said, 'I love you, in fact I love you *at least THIS* much'. And _especially _if their advice takes the form of 'Worst case scenario, X is always an option.' They _aren't _offering a serious solution, or hope they aren't, the *only* thing they are saying is emotional, though it might take some digging to find out if they're offering to go to jail for committing X, or just venting a similar level of frustration./rant


End file.
